A Medic Affair
by Sideways On Cybertron
Summary: TFP. The others always said Ratchet could use a human companion. To him, the notion was absurd. But when an unwitting medical student is caught in the crossfire of the Autobot/Decepticon conflict, the medic soon discovers he has more in common with her than he ever would have imagined. A CanonxOC experiment of epic proportions.
1. WHAT Did I Just See?

**Foreword**: Before I begin anything, I just want to say that I in no way own/am affiliated with Transformers. This was done out of sheer boredom. The OC is mine – I borrowed the name of a character in my mom's soap opera, and her appearance and personality are mixes of people I casually observe out in public. In my humble opinion, that's about as original as it gets (as I've noticed completely original OC's tend to become a little too two-dimensional). That being said, this is my first crack at a fanfiction in several years, so please don't be too harsh (although constructive criticism is always welcome).

Note that Transformers: Prime is its own continuity, and as far as I can see, there hasn't been a direct year associated with it…so all my talk of when the story is actually occurring is just my own creative liberties at work (if there IS an actual time, please let me know so I can adjust accordingly). Anywho, I think I've bored you long enough. Enjoy the story, and please leave a review if you could. :)

**Genre**: Humor/Friendship/Hurt/Comfort _(MAYBE romance down the line, depending on how the story turns out)_

**Rating**: M for lots of swearing and potential adult situations in the future.

**Summary**: TFP. The others always said Ratchet could use a human companion. To him, the notion was absurd. But when an unwitting medical student is caught in the crossfire of the Autobot/Decepticon conflict, the medic soon discovers he has more in common with her than he ever would have imagined. A CanonxOC experiment of epic proportions.

A Medic Affair

A moment of privacy these days is a moment to be treasured. It's a time when one can allow themselves to finally rest, to be at peace. To unwind and ponder the nuances of one's life that normally are taken for granted, or seem at first too insignificant to waste a moment of time in one's extremely busy day to consider. But for her, it was none of these things: it was a moment to discreetly check the clock on her cell phone. The leather banded watch she'd accidentally worn to classes that day wasn't "workplace appropriate", forcing her to leave it in her bag with the rest of her clothing; she was taking a terrible risk by carrying her cell phone during a shift at the hospital…but she had work afterward, and couldn't afford to be late. As beneficial as the practical experience is, medical internships pay next to nothing, and a second job is often needed to support one's income.

She ducked into a dusty alcove, peering cautiously around either side before reaching into her bra and partially extracting her phone, still keeping it under the top of her scrubs. Her hand shook as she unlocked the screen, revealing the time on the glass screen to be 7:45pm. Upon the realization that she wasn't yet late, she quickly stuffed the phone back into its hiding spot and sighed in relief.

"Xenakis!" barked a sharp voice from in front of her. The poor girl jumped and gasped, obviously startled. "What're you doing in here? Checking your cell phone again?"

Realizing it was her internship supervisor, she quickly regained her composure. "You'd like that far too much," she sneered, brushing bits of errant dust off her shoulders as she emerged from her hiding spot. "If you have to know, Mister Stamkos, I was adjusting myself." He seemed confused. "My bra was riding up, and I'm not going to mess around with it in front of mixed company."

He seemed reluctant to believe her, and gave her a suspicious glance before turning away to resume walking down the hall. "With the way you've been burning out of here these days, it's a valid question."

"To be fair, when there's extra income involved, it's somewhat understandable." She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, collecting patient files that were no longer required by the staff along the way. "Med students usually live below the poverty line, and are up to their eyeballs in student loan debts."

He harrumphed, and gave her a dirty look. "Being poor is no reason to slack, Ms. Xenakis. You know better."

"And _you've_ seen my grades," she growled, eyes narrowing into menacing slits. "I hardly think I've been slacking."

Mister Stamkos had nothing to say to this. She was in the top percentile of her class, and arguably worked harder than most of the other students. However, it was her attitude that he couldn't seem to get past; she had a very low tolerance for the abuse most interns took, and commanded a certain respect from everybody she came in contact with. Cold and callous, authoritarian and hardheaded: all admirable traits in a doctor…but not so much in an intern. The way she carried herself drove those superior to her crazy – extra effort was made to search for mistakes on her part, just as extra effort was made on her part to make sure that they would find none.

Now was another one of those moments. "Burns didn't show today; got one of the worst cases of streptococcus I've ever seen." He took this moment to take the stack of files in her arms, and replace it with a fat manila folder full of notes on new cases. "So I trust you'll be able to finish his reports by tomorrow."

If it were possible to kill somebody purely with looks, he would've been long dead and buried from the seething glare she shot at him. Yet her voice still remained stoic. "Yes. Of course. _Somebody_ has to pick up the slack around here, don't they?" She took this opportunity to gaze up at the large clock on the rear wall of the nurse's station. Eight o' clock. "I hate to end this riveting conversation prematurely," the sarcasm dripping from her words like a thick syrup, "but I'm going to be late for work. Goodnight, Mister Stamkos."

She barely heard his return "goodnight" as she hurried off to the women's locker room, nearly dropping the bloated folder in her arms twice. She plopped it unceremoniously on the metal bench as she expertly twirled the dial on her combination lock, barely needing to glance at it, before yanking it open and hanging it on the open locker door. She quickly stripped off her hospital scrubs and t-shirt before unzipping her large gym bag and pulling out her clothes for work. One eye on her phone's clock, she hastily pulled on a pair of black short socks and dark blue skinny jeans, hands deftly fastening the leather belt that had already been strung through the loops. A tight white tank top came next, followed by a well-worn leather jacket and a pair of soft knee-high black leather high heeled boots.

By the time she'd whipped her messy hair up into a haphazard bun, crumpled her dirty scrubs into a ball, and crammed them into her gym bag, it was already ten after eight. She quickly spritzed herself with a body mist she kept in her locker before shutting the door, locking it, and bursting through the rear exit into the parking lot. Running through the parking lot, she quickly spotted her car: a 2015 Camry.

It wasn't a sports car by any means, but it was the first brand new car she'd ever owned…slaved away for in a dingy dive bar for nearly a year. It was hers, and that's what mattered. She clicked the remote locks open, slid inside, and sped across town to work. Music blaring, she put her driving skills to the test, weaving in and out of traffic like a needle sewing through fabric. Dangerous, yes. But she wasn't about to be late for work for a third time and get fired. By the time she pulled into the decrepit street behind the building she had two minutes to spare, taking one of them to adjust her hair in the visor's vanity mirror and toss her gym bag in the trunk before heading inside.

Little did she realize that this was the last time she'd get to walk into work with a normal life.

* * *

"Prime!" Arcee was weaving in and out of traffic in her vehicle mode like a bat out of hell. An aftload of Vehicons was hot on her tail, showering her in a hail of laser fire. "Could really use some sort of backup right now, if you guys aren't too busy!"

Optimus commed back immediately and remained calm as usual. "Right. Bumblebee and I are on our way. Just hang on Arcee." Primus, did _anything_ light a fire under his backside?

That moment of distraction cost the femme, as she took a lucky shot to her back tire. She yelled in pain as she flipped off the freeway, spinning into her bipedal mode as she landed in a quiet urban street. It seemed to throw the Decepticons off…momentarily. They soon realized where she'd ended up and were quickly in pursuit. At first it was only a few, but they began swarming in like scraplets, hungry for an Autobot conflict. Eventually, she realized that if they kept up like this, she could potentially be overwhelmed.

"Where _are_ you guys?!" she commed desperately. This wasn't how she wanted things to end: taken down by the Cons. Alone. They needed to hurry.

As if sensing her anxiety, Optimus and Bumblebee bridged in, and immediately got to work without so much as a word. One by one, they began picking off the horde, the pile of bodies increasing at a fairly rapid pace. However, in the middle of all the din, a pressing thought came to Arcee.

"We've really gotta keep this down," she huffed as she landed a particularly nasty kick to the head of one of the Decepticons. "There's a bunch of businesses just down the road, and somebody might hear all this commotion."

One of the Decepticons attempted to sneak off, and Bumblebee took after him. Neither Optimus nor Arcee thought more of it, each claiming several more casualties without a terrible amount of difficulty. At long last, the remainder of them finally lay motionless on the pavement. Both breathed a sigh of relief – that is, until Prime intercepted a transmission that could've potentially revealed their presence to a dangerous number of humans. It sounded like a female voice, and judging by the strength of the signal, couldn't be far away.

"I know this is going to sound odd, but it was _crushed_. By two _giant robots_."

"I'm sorry, did you say _giant robots _crushed your car?"

Prime's worst fears had been confirmed. Yet another human had witnessed Autobot and Decepticon activity. He needed to end her transmission to prevent other humans from potentially learning of this before any kind of widespread panic could occur.

"Yeah. Look, I know it's a long shot but-"

It was done in an instant. He turned to Arcee, his face grave. "Arcee, another human saw." She gripped her forehead with her hand and shook her head, silent save for a long suffering sigh. Optimus sympathized, but knew what they needed to do. "Come…you know the protocol."

* * *

It'd been an exhausting eight hour shift behind a grimy bar. She'd wearily counted her tips, and just slid into her jacket in preparation to finally head home after what could safely be considered a grueling day. Just as she was moving to take her purse from the hook on the wall and open the door, she heard noise. It sounded like something very heavy…running. The logical portion of her brain told her to stay inside until the phenomenon had passed, but the curious part said to open the door. And just as she did so, she witnessed a sight that few humans would ever behold.

It was two _giant robots_. A black and yellow one, and a black and purple one. Fighting. In the middle of the street. It was like something straight out of a science fiction movie. After only seconds of watching the entanglement in a complete stupor, she then watched the unthinkable happen:

The yellow and black one tackled the purple and black one. And they _landed on her car_.The crunching sound of their heavy bodies crushing the metal of her vehicle made her stomach lurch and her heart sink; she fell against the door frame, slumped over in disbelief.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me." The two robots had long since moved down the road, giving her a bird's eye view of the remains of what was once a car fresh off the assembly line. "I didn't even get to put the goddamn license plates on yet!"

What now? The car was clearly totaled, and she had no way home. Remembering that her car insurance company had a twenty-four hour hotline, she extracted her card from her purse and dialed the number on her cell phone, tapping in her policy number when asked to do so. As she was waiting to be connected, she realized that explaining what had happened to her car was going to sound…interesting to the agents. However, before she could try to formulate an alternative story, the woman on the other end of the line picked up.

"Hello, Safety First Insurance Co., this is Jessica speaking. How may I help you?" She sounded pleasant enough. But how would she react to this?

"Yeah, hi," she began, trying not to be sick over the loss of her most valuable possession and only method of transportation. "My car was just totaled, and I need a rental car or a courtesy shuttle or something to take me home."

"Name please?"

"Kayla Xenakis."

There were several seconds of audible typing on the other end of the line. "What happened to the vehicle, ma'am?" the woman asked, her tone now sympathetic.

"I know this is going to sound odd," she hazarded, glancing around to make sure nobody else was about to overhear what she was sure was a bout of pure insanity. "But it was_crushed_. By two _giant robots_."

She was met with silence. Finally, after several minutes, the woman responded, "I'm sorry, did you say _giant robots_ crushed your car?"

Damn. She knew this wasn't going to go well. "Yeah. Look, I know it's a long shot but-"

"Hello, ma'am? Are you there?" The line was filling with static, and the agent's voice began to crackle. "Ma'am? Are you there?"

"Yes! Yes, I'm still here!" Kayla pleaded desperately, darting out into the street next to the ruins of her car hoping to get a better phone signal. The line went dead, and a dial tone began to ring in her ear. A rush of emotions flooded her, and before she could stop herself, screamed, "_Son of a BITCH!_"

She hurled her phone down the street in a fit of anger, and stood there breathing hard and ragged, fighting a very strong urge to vomit. After several minutes, she slowly began to realize that if she had any hope of going home tonight, it'd be with that phone. Hopefully it wasn't broken; she shuddered at the thought, and ran down the street to search for it. When she eventually found the device, it was undamaged —thanks to the massive plastic and rubber case she kept it in—and stooped down to pick it up. But when she stood, wasn't prepared for the site that stood before her…More giant robots.

"Oh, fuck me."

* * *

**Author's Note**: And there you have it! Hopefully it wasn't too bad for a first attempt. What do you guys think so far? Let me know in a review! :D


	2. A Kindred Spirit

**Author's Note: **Alright everybody…here's chapter two! Thanks to Cutie Kyuubi for reviewing! And if you like what I read or have any comments/suggestions of things you'd like to see, please drop me a line in a review. :)

* * *

A Medic Affair

_A Kindred Spirit_

"Oh, fuck me."

It was as if she'd questioned the cosmos "How could things get _any_ worse?"…and they responded in kind. Approaching her from down the opposite end of the road were two more giant robots; a blue and silver one that had the distinct facial features of a female, and a towering red, silver, and blue male. She stood stock still in the middle of the street, paralyzed in a mixture of shock, awe, and terror as they drew nearer, their heavy footsteps shaking the very earth upon which she stood. Finally, the male knelt down on one knee, his concerned face peering down at her with a look of benevolence.

"Please, do not be afraid." His voice was calm, gentle. A stark contrast to the behavior from whom she could only assume was his companion. "My name is Optimus Prime, and this is my dear friend, Arcee." The female robot gave her a small smile, and waved a hand to acknowledge her. "We are autonomous robotic organisms from the planet Cybertron," he took note of the bewildered expression that flashed across her face, and continued, "But you may also refer to us as 'Autobots'."

For several moments, Kayla said nothing, staring up at the two of them as though they were wondrous objects from another world…which they were, technically speaking. Finally, she began to express amusement. It started out as a titter, then progressed to a giggle, melted into a chortle, and then exploded into maniacal laughter; the sound of her cackling reverberated off the nearby hills, and before long she was doubled over clutching her stomach, head lifted to the sky as peal after peal of raucous laughter erupted from her. Finally she stood, tears of mirth glinting in her eyes as she slowly began to regain composure over herself.

"I'm sorry…" she half laughed, wiping the moisture from her eyes. "I thought you just said you guys were alien robots." The female chuckled as she sighed, and sat down on the pavement, looking up at the two of them as though expecting them to chuckle and reveal themselves to be pranksters. It honestly would have been better even if she realized they were merely figments of her imagination, and she was slowly beginning to slip into the dark abyss of complete and utter madness. But Optimus stared back at her solemnly, his bright blue eyes still soft with worry. And she knew. It hit her like a ton of bricks. "Oh god…" she looked back up at the pair of them, eyes shifting from one to the other as the realization sunk in. "You're not joking, are you?"

"I am afraid not." He came slightly closer, and retracted his facemask. The human jumped, the noise startling her. "And after seeing what you have, I fear that you are in grave danger."

"The Decepticons-", Kayla was again confused, raising one eyebrow and looking up at the femme inquisitively. "-that black and purple guy you saw our friend Bumblebee fighting…they'll assume that because you were close by our encounter, you may be not only sympathetic to our cause, but a direct ally of ours."

Optimus then rose to scan the horizon, eyes squinting. "Indeed…" he glanced down at the human again, doing his best to not mentally anguish over the situation. "And any ally of ours, pseudo or not, is a target of theirs. I must recommend that for your own safety, you return back to our headquarters for the night. Perhaps then we can better assess the situation."

With that, he initiated his transformation sequence, alternating into his vehicle mode before her very eyes. She gaped at the tractor trailer, and watched in awe as the black and yellow robot from before –which she presumed was Bumblebee– joined the female robot, and they both transformed as well. The movement of the cogs and gears, the flawless sequence which took them from bipedal humanoids to automobiles…it was almost mesmerizing. It happened so quickly, she wanted to watch it again; a miracle of science and a feat of engineering, to say the least.

"What the hell…" she breathed as she approached Prime's cabin. After several moments, she broke free from her stupor, shaking her head. "No…wait. How do I know you really have my safety in concern?" The young woman backed away, eyes widening when the door opened as an invitation to climb inside. "How am I to know you are who you say you are? How do I know you won't abduct me and kill me, or something?" As if to answer her question, a stray rocket whizzed over the tops of the vehicles, making impact upon the hill behind them and exploding, sending shockwaves through the ground.

"Starscream inbound!" barked Arcee, gliding up beside her and nudging her with her front tire. "Get inside, now! We have to hurry!"

All of this brought memories rushing back to her; memories of combat, of survival. She knew there was a very good chance that she could possibly be insane, but at this point, these robots seemed friendlier than the ones coming for them were. It was the lesser of two evils.

"_Will you hurry?!"_ the femme yelled, starting to take off and gain speed in her motorcycle form.

Kayla turned around long enough to glimpse a fleet of jets heading in their direction, and against all voices of reason, picked up her enormous gym bag and scrambled inside Prime's cabin. He was off in a second, burning rubber like a madman in an attempt to stay ahead of their pursuers. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, vaguely heard him telling her to remain calm, and that the situation was under control as purple blasts of lasers showered the truck. Her head began to spin, the disorientation causing her to slump back in the driver's seat. The last thing she saw before she passed out what a giant green circle appear in front of the convoy; it rippled in waves, like some sort of bizarre wormhole. And as they passed through its outer perimeters, her head became light, and all went black.

* * *

It was Arcee who made it through to the other side first, followed quickly by Bumblebee. At last, Optimus brought up the rear. But he didn't immediately transform as the others did, popping open his driver's side door before allowing Bumblebee to reach inside.

"_How strange…"_ Ratchet mused to himself as he shut the ground bridge and turned to face his companions.

"Yo, Prime!" Bulkhead bellowed from across the room, making his way over to join the others, Miko perched on his shoulder like a colorful bird. "What's up with the vehicle mode? You're home now."

"Yeah," added Jack as he wandered over from the scaffolding in front of the console monitors. "That's pretty weird for you guys to not transform the second you're in the door."

"We have a guest," said Optimus evenly. Bumblebee extracted an unconscious human female from his cab, and Miko, Jack, and Raf gasped. Ratchet and Bulkhead recoiled in horror as they realized that yet another innocent bystander had been dragged into their conflict with the Decepticons. "Her story is one to explain later. For now, I am more concerned with her well being." He took her flaccid form from the black and yellow mech, cradling her gently in his massive hands. "She slipped into unconsciousness right before we hit the ground bridge. Ratchet, is it possible to run a scan on her?"

"I am many things, Optimus," the medic leveled. "But a human medic is not one of them. I suggest contacting Agent Fowler for further assistance." He glanced down into Prime's hands; she'd slumped over sideways, and he couldn't really get a good look at her. "For now, we should probably lie her down somewhere."

Optimus took this moment to gently place her on the medical berth nearby, normally reserved for Autobots. The metal table seemed to dwarf her, giving her the appearance of a small ragdoll. She remained still, face placid and showing no emotion; everybody gathered around to get a glimpse of her. Jack rushed over with his backpack, unzipped it, and began rummaging around inside until he extracted a small first aid kit.

"My mom always makes me carry this thing around," he explained, opening the kit, pulling out a small sealed foil packet and tearing the edge open. "It's ammonia. Should hopefully wake her up pretty quickly."

He waved the open packet under her nose for several seconds. Her face twitched, and he continued to do so for another ten seconds or so before she awoke. It seemed to happen all at once: her eyes flew open and she sat up ramrod straight, hacking and coughing from the strength of the inhaled irritant. As the coughing fit subsided, she slowly began to take in her surroundings. She was now encircled by _five_ giant robots and a group of three kids, two teenagers and a younger kid, all of whom were curiously staring at her. She straightened, and slowly stood up, doing her best to remain calm.

"Where am I?"

"Autobot headquarters," Bulkhead informed her, stepping forward and crouching down to look at her. "Don't worry, you're safe here."

She turned back around to face Optimus, and he smiled encouragingly. Taking her time, she carefully scanned the faces of each Autobot, keen senses determining if she was facing friend or foe. They all seemed to smile at her to some degree except for one, who seemed indifferent to her presence. He may not have been smiling, but he wasn't hostile, ether. Finally, she seemed to relax slightly, and extended her hand to shake his massive finger.

"Hi," she smiled cautiously up at him. "I'm Kayla." Her tiny hand clutched his finger and shook it unsteadily, like a new foal learning to walk.

"Kayla? Good to meet you!" he rumbled, scooping her up enthusiastically. She shrieked at the sudden change of height, and he chuckled. "Sorry for the unexpected lift. My name's Bulkhead. This here is Miko."

He raised her up to eye level with his companion; she responded with an animated, "Suuuuup?!" and a rather large smile. "The other two guys down there are Jack and Raphael."

"Raf for short," corrected the youngest, smiling sheepishly as Jack gave her a friendly," Hey". She smiled weakly back at them and waved, thankful to at least see a few human faces.

Bulkhead then swiveled around turning to face the rear of the base. "And that's Ratchet, our doc bot," he gestured to a red and white robot in the corner. "He can be a grouch, but there's nobody better at the job than he is."

For a moment, she became completely lost, receding from the situation, the base, and probably even the planet…at least mentally. Their eyes locked for only a split second, but her heart jumped up to her throat. Breathing deeply, she averted her gaze and cleared her throat, quickly regaining her composure and clearing her throat. "Nice to meet you," she said politely, eyes downcast and beginning to fidget. The green mech took notice, and gently set her down on the ground. "Look…I want to thank you for rescuing me," she glanced up at Optimus, gaze occasionally shifting back to Ratchet. "But don't you think it's time you took me back through that portal thing and brought me home? I don't mean to be rude, but I have a rather large stack of medical reports to finish, and they need to be completed by tomorrow morning."

Optimus looked sorrowful, and crouched down so that he could speak with her on a more equal level. "I'm afraid it's still not safe to do so as of yet. The wreckage of your vehicle was left behind, and should the Decepticons have been determined enough, they may have run its serial number. With it, they could locate your place of residence."

"And they're not exactly afraid to pay house calls," Jack informed her. "I know this all seems crazy, but you're definitely safer here than you are back at your place. Trust me…we learned from experience."

"We'll keep an ear out for any Decepticon chatter," said Arcee, gesturing to the giant monitors behind them. "Play it safe for a few days, and if we don't hear anything, we'll take you home."

They made valid points. But the situation was still far too new and uncomfortable for Kayla. She'd just endured a semi-traumatic experience, and her emotions were overtaking the logical portion of her brain. Right now, home seemed like the place she needed to be, and she was beginning to grow increasingly more anxious as she realized she might in fact be stuck here. Her mind reeled for an excuse. "You don't understand. I'll get fired from my internship…and if I lose my internship, I can't graduate." She gestured to her cell phone. "This place is like a black hole for any kind of cell phone signal; how am I supposed to call for a ride to the hospital tomorrow morning if I can't use my phone?"

But the Autobot leader was prepared for this. "Do not worry. Because we are the ones responsible for getting you into this predicament, we will assist you." He turned to face his medic. "Ratchet. You'll be responsible for her safe transportation to and from base, her place of work, and her school."

Ratchet sighed irritably. "I'm an emergency vehicle, Optimus. Not a taxi." He harrumphed and turned around to face the monitors once again, scanning for any ongoing Decepticon communication. "Besides the point, who will operate the ground bridge in my absence?"

"Your generosity is overwhelming," Kayla sneered, glaring up at the offending mech with eyes that could have surely burned holes into his chassis. "Optimus, this is clearly more trouble than it's worth. Just send me home, please."

"I will not allow it," he said firmly, stopping Ratchet's hand from touching the ground bridge switch. "Ratchet, we are a unit. It's our fault she is even here to begin with; we are all trained to operate the ground bridge…I'm confident we can manage a couple hours without you each day." The medic was taken aback, intakes whirring sharply like a sniff. "Ratchet's lab is quiet," the larger mech informed her. "And has a wireless internet router. You are more than welcome to complete your reports there."

"Now just a minute!" Ratchet interjected indignantly. "A bot's lab is his sanctuary! His one place where he can-"Prime said nothing, but the pointed look that he directed at his medic was firm. It wasn't a request. It was an order. "Fine…Right this way."

Kayla rolled her eyes at his reluctant tone, but said nothing as she slung the strap of her gym bag across her chest and began to follow him. The sounds of the other Autobots and humans enjoying themselves in the common room began to fade and were slowly replaced with silence, save for Ratchet's heavy footsteps and the soft clicking of the heels of her boots on the tile floor. Neither spoke for the duration of the walk through the maze of corridors (taking careful mental notes on the path they took, should she need to navigate her way back unassisted), and the medic finally stopped at a room on the very end of the east wing of the base. He gestured for her to enter, and she did; her eyes widened as she gazed around the massive laboratory, thoroughly impressed.

"Nice place," she said casually, stepping into the hand he lowered for her. He lifted her up to his desktop — she was a little more prepared this time— and allowed her to step from his palm onto the hard surface. "You set all this up yourself?"

"Mhmm," the mech murmured, taking a seat in his chair and beginning to sift through a stack of data pads. "Set this up entirely on my own."

The female grunted in acknowledgement, and sat down with her back against the wall before reaching into her bag and extracting her laptop from amid a tangle of scrubs, gym clothes, toiletries, and other miscellaneous items. Her hand finding the bulging manila folder Dr. Stamkos had given her, she grabbed it and began to flick through its contents; her eyes scanned the documents quickly and she organized them from greatest to shortest length.

"_Best to get the longer ones out of the way first"_, she told herself, opening the word processor with a begrudging sigh and diving headlong into the stack. _"God, what a pain in the ass." _Her fingers darted across the keyboard rapidly, eyes never leaving the document she had propped up against her bag as the empty document began to fill with words. _"Here's hoping this goes quickly."_

* * *

Ratchet had just settled into a comfortable rhythm when his keen audio receptors began to pick up a faint clicking sound. He ceased his work and looked up, searching for the source of the sound. Finally, his eyes landed on the new human sitting at the corner of his desk; she was typing away furiously on her computer, eyes never lifting from the document she was analyzing and transcribing. He watched in fascination as her delicate fingers flew across the keyboard, pausing only for her to flip to the next page of the aforementioned document. It was very fascinating to see how dexterous humans could be, especially without any sort of real effort. Seeing as she was otherwise occupied, the medic took this opportunity to observe their newcomer.

She was an astonishingly pale — almost sickly looking— young woman with a head of dark red hair, pulled up into a haphazard bun at the back of her head. High cheekbones and arched brow bones gave her face a hard, yet almost delicate quality; her nose was sharply angled but crooked at the bridge, probably from some form of a nasal fracture. The female's pale pink lips were covered in tiny lacerations from incessant chewing, and were currently thinned in concentration as she continued to type feverishly, her brow furrowed in deep thought. Dark circles plagued her almond shaped eyes like a terrible disease, giving her face a hollowed, sunken look.

He didn't realize how long he'd drifted off mentally, because he failed to notice that the typing had ceased, and she was now looking up at him.

"What?" Kayla asked flatly, raising one eyebrow in curiosity as she cast him a scrutinizing glance.

The medic quickly averted his gaze. "Sorry. Just staring off." The explanation was short and brisk; he turned his focus back to his data pads just in time to miss the ghost of disappointment wipe its way briefly across the other's face. He heard her rummaging around again, and once more looked over in her direction.

She had pulled out a hard leather case from her bag, flipped the lid open, and removed a pair of glasses before snapping the ear pieces apart and sliding them onto her face. The change in her appearance was startling. The black, thick-ish famed spectacles made her look astute, dignified; large blue-green eyes stared up at him expectantly, magnified by the strong prescription of the lenses and lending her an almost owlish appearance, as she waited for him to speak. His spark fluttered subtly, barely enough for him to even perceive. But he felt it, and did his best to regain his composure by remaining silent.

When he didn't speak, and after several moments of awkward silence, she took the moment to begin conversation again. "They make me look professional, huh?" she inquired, pushing the frames closer to her eyes by the nosepiece before tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Ratchet didn't quite know what to say. He'd never felt so…at a loss for words, especially when it came to communicating with humans. He settled for a polite, "Mhmm, yes" and a nod of his head before returning his gaze back to his research once more.

The pair worked in silence, the medic tapping away on a series of data pads and the human enthusiastically typing on her computer, pausing only to sort reports before resuming the assault on her keyboard. Several hours flew by, and it was then that the ambulance realized that she was also a night owl, up working through the night as he was accustomed to. The others had long headed off to get some stasis time in, leaving only the two of them up. At long last, Kayla sighed, set her laptop down on his desk, and rose to stretch. Ratchet watched as she achieved a particularly impressive backbend, and it looked so satisfying that he decided a stretch break was in order for him as well.

He stood, raising his arms over his head and was rewarded with the sharp hiss of his hydraulic systems releasing pressure. "So…" he began, relieving several more of his joints as he took her in with a measured gaze. "What keeps you up this late? Most humans typically tire long before this hour."

She elevated her head sideways, cracking her neck thoroughly. "Ha," she chucked, picking up one of her feet behind her to stretch her thigh muscles. "Oh, I'm plenty tired. But these patient case reports won't get done on their own." Upon mention of them, she turned around and surveyed the small stack of remaining client files still waiting for her with a woeful sigh. "Thank god I graduate in June; these suckers make me nuts."

"A university student, I presume?" Ratchet was always pleased to see the younger people attaining a higher education, and was quite fond of the world of academia.

This elicited another laugh from his late night companion. "I am no mere student", she informed him ominously, casually perching herself on the edge of his desk. "I'm a fourth year med student down at Jasper University."

The medic raised an optic ridge. "Mm, Jasper University? I hear tell they run an excellent medical program."

"If by 'excellent' you mean 'grueling', then the rumors are true." She began to swing her feet idly as she looked up at him wearily. "I'm so bone-tired and beaten down these days. Almost feels like there's no end in sight sometimes."

Ratchet murmured in agreement, and also sat himself down. "Yes…I remember that feeling." He absent mindedly scratched the back of his head, and returned his gaze to her. "Back when I was in the medical academy, I remember my final solar cycle there being terribly stressful. Don't lose faith. It might not appear so, but there is in fact an end in sight."

She glanced up at him, and gave him a small half-smile. "Yeah…but it's not getting any closer if I don't finish these reports." He took this as a segue into the end of their break, and turned to reach for a new stack of fresh data pads. Several moments of silence passed as they began to resume their respective tasks, the sounds of shuffling papers and clicking data pads filling the air. "Hey." The medic turned around again, returning his attention to her once more. "Thank you."

Ratchet said nothing, but gave her a small smile and a nod of his head. Nothing really needed to be said. From what he could tell, they were two kindred spirits; both hard working, nocturnal medical professionals. They worked for another hour or so in contented silence, their dreary tasks made somewhat less unpleasant merely with company, wordless though it may be. For a short while, he was so bent on his work that he didn't hear her finish, putting her laptop away and discreetly lying down, resting her head on her gym bag. It was only when he became distracted by the sounds of her shifting in her sleep that he even realized she was no longer awake, a faint ghost of a smile pulling at his mouthplates.

"_Poor girl…she must be exhausted if she's sleeping on that old desk of mine."_

Without a word, he gingerly scooped her up into his hands, being mindful of the fragile appendages that came with humans. Slowly navigating the hallways as to not wake her, he returned to the darkened common room and laid her down on the couch the humans usually occupied; Agent Fowler wasn't here tonight, leaving it free for her use. It was about time he got some stasis too, now that the mention of it arose. Heading for his quarters, he set his internal alarm to wake in three hours, as was designated by their new guest as the time she needed to leave the next morning. Restless thoughts plagued his mind, but he'd force them aside long enough to get some stasis.

Perhaps today wasn't as unproductive a day as he thought it would be.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Whew…that was a long one! Hopefully I'm taking this slow enough; can't have them hitting it off TOO much right away, haha. That being said, I'm proud of this chapter. Not a lot of feedback, however. Should I continue the story, or just let it go?


	3. Rude Awakenings and Pleasant Surprises

**Author's Note:** Thanks to all who reviewed, favorited, and followed the story! Keep up with the being awesome and such, and spread the word! Getting feedback from you guys is truly a blessing, and I welcome all constructive criticism as well. Anything you can tell me to help me become a better author is greatly appreciated. Hope you enjoy the next chapter!

* * *

A Medic Affair

_Of Rude Awakenings and Pleasant Surprises_

"Hey. Heey. HEEEEEEY!"

_CLANG_

Ratchet immediately snapped out of stasis and shot up from his berth, systems in overdrive and ready for a fight as he brought forth his weapons. He searched around for his primary aggressor, eyes scanning his quarters, but saw neither friend nor foe in the vicinity.

"Down here, bolts for brains." Startled by the location of the sound, the mech looked down, and was met by the angry gaze of one very irritated human. "We're ten minutes late. Get your rear in gear…and give me back my boot."

He'd been absentmindedly rubbing where the steel toe of her boot had made contact with his head before he realized what had happened. With a gusty harrumph, he unceremoniously dropped the offending shoe down on the offending human, ignoring her indignant screech as it nearly hit her.

"_Primus…my internal clock can't be that far off, can it?"_ he mused to himself as he rose from his berth and began to make his way toward the common room, ignoring the dull ache of a nearly-empty energon tank as he paused long enough for Kayla to pull her boot over her foot before continuing onward.

It was painfully early; the others were still deep in stasis and the base was almost eerily quiet, save for the clacking of the human's heels on the hard floor as she bounded after him. Ratchet took a moment to survey the room, scanning carefully to ensure nothing was out of place. No…everything was as he remembered – no sign of any activity in the brief period he'd been slumbering. As he made mental notes of tasks that needed to be completed that day, he could hear the scuffling sounds of his counterpart gathering her materials, and was preparing to transform when his eyes caught sight of the time on the computer monitors.

"Wait a nanoklik…" the realization began to dawn on him. "It's _five-fifty! _You said we needed to leave at six 'o clock!"

She sighed with annoyance and glowered at him, placing a hand on her hip to emphasize her current emotional state. Ratchet nearly blew a gasket; the human took note, and said flatly,"Yeah…if there was _no traffic_." She slung her bag over her shoulder and continued, "Luckily I managed to check online early enough; there's a huge accident on the interstate with a line of cars backed up for miles. If we hurry, we still might be able to be punctual."

Unable to contain himself, the medic rolled his eyes. "We _could_ always use the bridge, you know. Save us a great deal of time and energy," he jerked his chin at her, a sneer beginning to form. "Or do you always prefer to do things as inefficiently as possible?"

He struck a nerve. He watched as she silently seethed, eyes flashing dangerously. Yet her composure remained firm, her demeanor stoic. "Just as _you_ prefer to leave an open door to your base?" she inquired, raising one eyebrow as she surveyed him with skepticism. "I wasn't aware you could safely transport me to my destination while simultaneously closing it behind you, oh _great and powerful master of the interdimensional portal_."

They were wasting time. The sooner this fool's errand was over with, the sooner he could resume his trials of the synthetic energon he'd been working on the day before. "First, it's a _ground bridge, _not an interdimensional portal." He scoffed at the mere thought before turning to face her again. "And second, the longer we stand here and enjoy this _pleasant_ early-morning conversation, the tardier you'll be."

Kayla said nothing and faced away from him, but the contempt was clearly mutual. To such a degree that it was nearly tangible, thick enough to cut with a blade. After several moments, she turned back and glared at him once more. "Well, are you going to stand there or transform into my chauffer? I have shit to do."

He was accustomed to getting lip from younger bots, but never before had he been so disrespected; if he fed into it, it would only fan the flames of their argument, which would be beneficial to nobody at this point in time. Ratchet said nothing, the silence terse, and quickly transformed into his vehicle mode. Kayla watched again in awe and attempted to slow down the process mentally, eyes wide and concentrating fiercely. Ratchet popped open the passenger door as an invitation to climb in, but was surprised when she strode over to the driver's side and manually opened the door.

She raised one eyebrow to an unnatural height on her forehead. "Don't you think people might get suspicious if they see me sitting in the passenger seat with no driver in the driver's seat?"

It was a valid point…not that he'd ever admit it to her. Once again he said nothing as she climbed inside, fastened her seatbelt, and deposited her bag on his passenger seat; she gently placed her hands on his steering wheel in order to mimic driving, and the ambulance tensed as he pulled out of the exit tunnel from the base. He noted that they were smaller than average, slightly rough from use, but very warm. As soon as they hit the open air, his windshield was assailed with a smattering of rain. A storm had rolled in overnight, and was currently in the process of drenching the normally arid terrain. Ratchet shuddered slightly from the sudden change in temperature and she absentmindedly patted the steering wheel in what was almost reassurance. For a short while, there was almost a comfortable silence between them, marred only by the sound of the pattering of the rain on his chassis. An enormous yawn emerged from his human passenger, arms stretching over her head, legs extending down in the cavity where his pedals resided.

It was then that Ratchet decided to inquire about something he'd been pondering the previous night. "What made you decide to become a physician? Humans have a rather large variety of career pathways to choose from."

The human paused mid yawn, her face contorting into an odd expression as though he'd halted a natural body process. She yawned once again to equalize herself, and then adjusted her backside in his seat. "Well…" she hesitated for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "I was a corpsman in the Navy, and I loved what I did." He didn't notice her instinctively rubbing her legs together, scratching the scars that lay beneath her clothing. "But I'd had enough of military service. I wanted to keep helping people, and I wanted to remain in the medical profession. So I suppose it seemed like a logical choice."

The Autobot mulled her words over mentally for several moments before he spoke again. "You appear very young for one with as much life experience as you have."

Kayla laughed tiredly. "I'll take that as a compliment." She smiled to herself, and couldn't resist checking her reflection in his rear view mirror. Despite the trauma to her body and the ravages of stress that befell most humans, her face still retained a surprisingly youthful appearance. "I'm twenty-five. It was difficult fitting in an entire Bachelor's degree into a four year stint in the armed forces, but not impossible." A pale hand reached up and swept back a strand of stray hair. "Just depends on your level of motivation, you know?"

The medic murmured in agreement, and for several minutes a tranquil silence washed over the two of them. Like him, she also didn't appear to be much of a talker. It was a welcome relief from conversation with Raf, Miko, and Jack; whenever he talked with them, somebody always seemed to be speaking at any given moment with no real lulls to the conversation. Then again, Kayla was much older than all three of them – a young adult, not a child. It stood to reason that her additional years in age attributed to the manner and the level of maturity in which she communicated.

"Mind if I turn on the radio?" she asked idly, pulling down the sleeves of her leather jacket.

"Hmph, "came his nondescript reply. "Just as long as it's none of that awful noise Bulkhead and Miko tend to listen to."

The female chuckled quietly. "No…I think it's far too early in the morning for a searing migraine."

She reached over and switched the device on, tuning it to one of Jasper's easy listening stations and adjusting the volume to a lower level. A song had just ended, allowing for a moment of silence before another began. The soft tones of a piano began to fill his cabin, and he felt himself relax a little; this wasn't too bad at all.

_Be still and know that I'm with you  
Be still and know that I am here  
Be still and know that I'm with you  
Be still, be still, and know_

Kayla had leaned back in the driver's seat, hands still lightly resting on the steering wheel, her head propped against his window. He heard her sigh deeply and sink lower still into his seat as the rain began to increase in volume. As much as he didn't want to feel this way, it was almost peaceful. The medic could feel the gentle breeze of her warm breath on his window, dancing over the glass like an apparition. The tender melody and lyrics of the song combined with the sensation were enough to cause a pleasant buzz to course through his chassis…perfect for the gloomy weather surrounding them.

_When darkness comes upon you  
__And covers you with fear and shame  
Be still and know that I'm with you  
And I will say your name__  
_

As they were drawing closer to Jasper Hospital, he could hear her begin to hum the melody softly along with the radio. Judging from the clarity of her notes, he could tell that her vocalizing mechanism was finely tuned. It was fascinating. He'd heard humans singing before on their radio stations and on television, but it was entirely different to hear in person. There was a lapse in his observation as he made note to exit the interstate, and managed to execute a particularly difficult left turn without having to wait for the traffic to cycle again. The rain worsened further still as they continued on, but it wasn't nearly as severe of an assault on his senses as before.

_If terror falls upon your bed  
And sleep no longer comes  
Remember all the words I said  
Be still, be still, and know_

A clap of thunder interjected into the peaceful song, and both winced. "You're going to get awfully wet," Ratchet observed, taking care to slow down for a particularly big puddle of oil coming up.

"Bah," Kayla waved an unconcerned hand. "It'll be unpleasant, but a little rain never hurt anybody." She ran a protective hand along the fat manila folder full of freshly printed reports. "Just need to make sure these stay dry."

The medic grunted in agreement, falling back into an absentminded state.

_And when you go through the valley  
And the shadow comes down from the hill  
If morning never comes to be  
Be still, be still, be still  
_

"_This is odd…"_ he thought to himself as the hospital came into view. _"Why do I feel so…content? It's bitter cold and pouring rain. Why am I not miserable?"_

His passenger interrupted his musing; rattling him out of a nearly ethereal state he didn't realize he'd slipped into. "You can just turn in right here," she directed. "This entrance is closest to where I need to be." She took note of the torrential downpour and added,"You can park under the covered ambulance port. Get you out of the rain for a bit, you know?"_  
_

_If you forget the way to go  
And lose where you came from  
If no one is standing beside you  
Be still, and know I'm…_

Ratchet did as he was instructed. As she was gathering up her belongings, she turned to him again. "Would you mind holding up for just a minute? You never know." He could feel her slinging her bag over her shoulder, placing her hand on the door handle. "I might get lucky and not have to stay," she joked, a weary laugh escaping her as she zipped up her jacket around her manila folder, shielding it from the pounding rain.

"Mhmm, yes," he said nonchalantly, watching as she jumped down onto the pavement. The ambulance quickly synched up his comm link to her cell phone. "Just keep me informed."

The human readjusted herself one last time, glancing back at him again. "Thanks Ratchet." Kayla gave him a subtle smile, braced herself, and made a run for the nearest door, boots clicking furiously on the wet pavement. She braced her arms around her torso, trying desperately to keep the rain from penetrating her leather jacket and ruining her reports.

_Be still and know that I'm with you  
Be still and know I am  
_

He watched as she made a final sprint for the door, throwing her weight against it to open it and disappearing inside. Memories of the medical academy began to flood back to him: the last minute frenzy to deliver data pads, the pressure to impress his superiors. It seemed like so long ago, yet remained in his mind as freshly as though he'd only just graduated. He watched through the window embedded in the door as she received a large envelope from the receptionist, then began to converse with a man standing outside the reception counter; she unzipped her jacket, and extracted the dry reports before handing them to him.

"_She got them in on time….good," _he mused to himself, mind beginning to drift. _"Nothing worse than turning in late reports."_

* * *

"Ah…Ms. Xenakis," Dr. Stamkos greeted her languidly, casting a look of thinly veiled disdain over his soaking wet intern. "Punctual, as usual." He gave her a moment to shake off, gather x-rays that she'd requested, and collect herself before she unzipped her jacket.

"Here," Kayla extracted the manila folder he'd given her yesterday, handing it to him as calmly as she could manage. "I finished them as you requested, doctor."

He took the folder from her and perused the reports, thumbing through them as he scanned their contents. "Hmm…" the doctor halted over a particular paper. He paused for several moments and resumed searching through the stack. "Well," he directed a pointed glance at her. "Everything seems to be in order here."

She breathed an immense sigh of relief and smiled shakily. "Great. Let me just call my ride and let him know he can leave now."

Now it was the doctor's turn to smile. "That won't be necessary." He chuckled at the confused look on her face, and continued, "Burns showed up today – he needs the hours, and we're painfully slow." He placed his hand on her shoulder. "Go ahead and go home. Everybody needs a day off once in a while."_  
_

Kayla was thunderstruck, unable to believe her ears. "Day…off?" She pointed to herself, eyes widened like saucers. "Me?"

"Are you slow or are you deaf?" The kindness in his voice was rapidly diminishing and she felt herself recoil in horror. "Go now, before I change my mind."

She didn't need to be told twice, and bolted toward the door. "Thank you Doctor Stamkos!" she called over her shoulder, barreling through the door and out into the pouring rain.

Once sufficiently far enough from the door, she squealed in delight and spun rapidly in a circle, arms stretched high over her head as though to welcome the downpour. Feet lighter than air, she pranced over toward the covered ambulance bay, a toothy grin plastered over her face as she leaned over and drummed on his hood. The Autobot jumped and grumbled; he'd been catching a brief stasis nap, and the rude awakening had severely startled him; waking up unpleasantly twice in one day had become old. He tiredly popped open his driver's side door and she clambered inside.

"Uggh," the medic groaned, starting his engine and shivering. "You're soaking wet! Get out and dry off! My interior will be damp for _days…_"

"Got a towel?" came the cheeky response, her newly improved mood evident through the tone of her voice. She chortled to herself, and then spoke again. "Would you mind swinging by my apartment? A dry change of clothes would be a good start."

Ratchet mumbled something unkind in Cybertronian and pulled out from under the ambulance port, shuddering again as he returned to the pouring rain. Merging back onto the main road, he turned his attention to his passenger. "And just where might this be? I really _do _have quite a lot to do today." His tone was impatient, still grumpy from his sudden awakening from stasis.

"Paradise Lane," she instructed him. "The big apartment complex across the street from the entertainment district."

Thankfully, he recalled the location she was referring to. After several moments of somewhat tense silence, he spoke. "Pack enough clothing for several more days. I just received a message from Arcee saying that she may or may not have heard Decepticon chatter." She murmured in agreement, then said nothing. It only took ten or so minutes before he pulled up in front of the building that she mentioned, and as she was preparing to climb out, spoke once more. "I assumed your shift would be longer."

"As did I," the human rummaged around in her bag before extracting her keys and reaching for the door handle. "But I was given the day off. No classes, no work, no internship…" she paused momentarily and sighed wistfully, her eyes glassy with happiness. "Can't remember the last time I actually had a day off. It's been so long."

"_Yes…yes, I remember that feeling"_, Ratchet reflected to himself as she opened his driver's side door. The human climbed out of his cabin and took off running for the foyer of the building, not sparing a second glance behind her. "Don't be long!" the ambulance called after her. "We're sitting ducks out here!"

Little did he know how unfortunately true this statement was.

* * *

"There…" rasped Starscream, a pointed claw indicating a location on the map displayed on the monitor. "There they are."

Megatron growled in irritation, and looked closer at the spot to which his second in command. "Who exactly is _'they'_?" he sneered. "Are they en route to harvest energon?"

The jet flinched. If energon was the first thing that his leader inquired about, he wouldn't be pleased with this discovery. It seemed he wasn't clear enough about who "they" were, either. "No, my liege. The Autobot medic, Ratchet – he is currently out accompanying a human. Parked outside a building waiting for her to return."

There was a moment of strained silence, Megatron's intakes inhaling sharply. This did not bode well. "And why, _praytell_, should this be of significance to me?"

Starscream quivered nervously as his leader turned to face him, his large form dwarfing him ominously. "Um," he stammered. "Well…he's their medic! Alone and unassuming. If we can terminate him, the Autobots will have no means with which to heal themselves."

The Decepticon leader's helm cocked to the side, a pointed brow rising in curiosity. "I'm listening…"

His second in command laughed nervously and continued. "We vastly outnumber them, and it isn't as though more Autobots are arriving to Earth daily that could possibly replace him." He turned to face the larger mech. "Worst case scenario: we abduct him and hold him for a king's ransom. Best case scenario…" a sinister grin twisted his mouthplates. "We terminate him. And it's only a matter of time before we wear the remaining Autobots down into scrap!"

Starscream knew he'd struck gold when Megatron tossed back his head and laughed. "I cannot believe I'm allowing myself to say this…" he chuckled, voice gravelly. "But that is an _excellent_ idea, Starscream. With their medic gone, we'll slowly tear them apart...Take some of the drones and leave at once. We must strike while the opportunity still presents itself."

"Yes, my lord."

* * *

Kayla had hurriedly unlocked her apartment and rushed inside, darting into her bedroom and pulling a rather old, large hockey equipment bag from under her bed before unzipping it. Paying no mind to immaculate folding, as she usually did, she began emptying the drawers of her dresser and cramming clothes into its depths as hard as she possibly could. Once empty, she moved to her closet; she ripped the clothing from their hangers, quickly wadding it into a wrinkled ball and shoved it into the bag as well. The young woman cringed upon seeing her good cocktail dresses in such a state, but pushed the knot in her stomach aside as a revelation overcame her. It was a gut instinct.

"_Something __really__ bad is about to happen,"_ it spoke to her. _"Pack like there's no going back."_

With the remaining space, she managed to clean out her shoe rack and stuff it inside the bag along with her toiletry case as well. Holding the two sides of the zipper track together, she was barely able to force it shut, panting from the strain. She seized the bag and ran over to the front facing window before whipping it open, and dropping it down two stories beside Ratchet.

"What are you doing?!" the startled Autobot shouted up at her. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Just a couple more things!" she shouted, voice cracking and face flushed with a sense of urgency.

The human whirled back around and darted to her hall closet. Inside was the rucksack she'd used during her military service, still packed with a pair of boots and a uniform. She grabbed it, and began filling it with all of her valuables. Her surround sound system, family heirlooms, a photo album, a camera, and several field knives. Dropping it on the couch, she made one last pit stop in the bathroom; opening the linen closet and removing a concealed panel, she extracted one last fully packed and heavy bag: her weapons cache. Inside contained several handguns and shotguns, a long range rifle, a full set of kevlar body armor with a matching helmet, and hundreds of boxes and magazines of ammunition. There wasn't much time left – she slung the heavy bag around her front and pulled her rucksack on before darting down the stairs, swiftly loading her possessions into the back of the waiting ambulance.

Just as she was prepared to climb in, she was struck with a thought. "Wait!" she shouted, and sprinted back up the stairs.

"Oh, _come on!"_ Ratchet shouted, engine revving impatiently. "Exactly _how much_ are you planning on loading into my medical cabin?" But his pleading fell on deaf ears. She'd only disappeared for several moments before reappearing in the second story window of the main apartment staircase, a large television in her arms. "Is she _serious_ right now?!"

But he didn't have long to ponder this question. The medic heard a sharp hissing sound, and the apartment where his charge had once been wandering exploded in a burst of bricks, glass, flames, and shrapnel. He screamed in horror, unable to locate Kayla; as much as he may not have liked her, he certainly didn't want to see _any _human harmed. Panic raced through his system for a brief second until he caught a glimpse of her, television still clutched in her arms, sprinting through the cloud of dust left in wake of the destruction. Breathing hard, she loaded in the massive electronic device and slammed the medical cabin doors shut before leaping into his driver's seat.

"Drive!" she yelled urgently, fastening her seatbelt and reaching into the bag beside her.

Ratchet didn't need to be told twice. His tires squealed as he put pedal to metal and rocketed down the road. "Optimus, I need an emergency ground bridge. I have the new human with me, and the Decepticons are in hot pursuit."

"Affirmative," replied Optimus. "Just distance yourself a bit further from town. I am opening it on the first patch of open land on the side of the interstate."

The ambulance grunted in affirmation, and further accelerated. Energon blasts began to rain down upon his chassis. "Come on…" he murmured, concern evident in his voice as he pressed on further.

Kayla realized how grave the situation was. With both Starscream and his drones on their tail, and Ratchet unable to return fire, there was a chance they may not even _make it_ to the ground bridge. She took this moment to load several rounds into the rifle she'd extracted from her bag earlier. "Any weak spots on that flying garbage can?"

The medic didn't take the time to process why she may be asking the question, and hurriedly replied,"Any transformation seams. The underbelly: that's where energon tanks are usually located."

This noted, the human rolled down the driver's side window and peered out. Sure enough, the Decepticon jet was flying low and right on their tail. Her eyes scanned for the seams the medic had mentioned, and noted a large one running laterally down his center; judging by its size, it must have been an important one. "Drive as steady as you can!" she barked, unbuckling her seatbelt, pulling back the action, and leaning her upper body outside the window while standing on the driver's seat. Using his frame as a tripod, she rested the rifle on it and peered through the scope; she had the seam right in her crosshairs, and as she fired, Ratchet hit a bump, straying the shot.

"Goddammit," she swore angrily, loading the next round into the chamber and refocusing her aim. Just as her finger pulled the trigger for the second time, he swerved to avoid an oncoming vehicle, causing that shot to miss as well. "Fuck!"

"Will you get back in here?!" the ambulance bellowed, his processor reeling from the combined stress of a Decepticon attack and her safety both interplaying. "You are going to get _killed!_"

"One more shot…" she murmured, fixing her crosshairs on the seam and steeling herself mentally. She took careful aim, directing the bullet as close to the nosecone on the seam as she could. With one deep breath, her index finger slowly squeezed the trigger.

All they heard was a small _ping_, and the Decepticon screamed in pain. "My eye!" he screeched, flight pattern diverting wildly out of control. _"My eye!"_

Kayla subtly smirked to herself for a split second as she ducked back inside, stowing her weapon and fastening her seatbelt. Despite the fact that blasts still rained down upon them, there was a stunned silence. And as the ground bridge finally came into view, Ratchet spoke at last.

"Impressive."

"Thanks. And not just for the compliment…for the place to say now that my apartment's been leveled." There was another moment of tense silence; he hadn't been expecting that. The human released a frustrated sigh, and then laughed. "_So glad_ I brought the TV."

Ratchet groaned. Or that. This was going to be interesting to explain to Optimus…

* * *

**Author's Note**: Holy balls…that was another long one. But again, I'm proud of it! Now that her apartment's toast, looks like Kayla will have to temporarily move in with the Autobots; time for them to really get to know each other. Hehe. *evil smile*

If you're confused about her background, you won't be for long. All will be explained in the next chapter…

The song in this chapter is "Be Still" by The Fray. It came on Pandora as I was writing, and it fit the mood so perfectly that I decided to include it in the chapter!

I've decided to continue for now (obviously, since this is a new chapter), but I'd really like to share this with as many people as I can. If you like what you read or have constructive criticism, please let me know; I love hearing from you guys, and it really encourages me to keep writing! Thanks for all the faves, subscribes, and reviews – love you guys! :)


	4. More Than Meets the Eye and Here to Stay

Author's Note: Hi everybody! I apologize for taking so long to update; school has been horrific, and finals pretty much took over my existence, so I've been terribly busy. T.T Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed the story! And I hope you lurkers are all enjoying. 3

I've made another long one for you guys, so hopefully you dig it! Lemme know in a review and I'll love you forever. :D

* * *

A Medic Affair

_More Than Meets the Eye and Here to Stay_

"_Thanks. And not just for the compliment…for the place to say now that my apartment's been leveled." There was another moment of tense silence; he hadn't been expecting that. The human released a frustrated sigh, and then laughed. "So glad I brought the TV." _

_Ratchet groaned. Or that. This was going to be interesting to explain to Optimus…_

* * *

Soon enough, the pair hit the ground bridge and peeled into the common room, his tires squealing on the pavement as he careened to a stop. Without a word, Kayla jumped down from the driver's seat and made her way to his medical hold, flinging open the doors and beginning to unload her many parcels that she'd stowed.

Ratchet never understood how Optimus could bear to be a cargo vehicle; the process of having items loaded and unloaded into one's interior was so…degrading. But he had to admit, having all of the human's various items removed from within his depths was a relief. He shivered as she lifted a particularly heavy parcel out of his medical cabin, the removal of weight and pressure somewhat uncomfortable. In an attempt to redirect his uneasiness, he returned to berating his charge once again. "You're a fragging _lunatic_, you know that?"

Kayla paused in the unloading of a second bag, and looked up at his roof. "And _you're_ a crotchety old bastard," she snarled, upper lip curling into a sneer. "Not exactly endearing, Chief."

The ambulance growled in irritation, the day's events coupled with her attitude beginning to really wear on his patience. "Watch yourself. I'll transform with you inside."

He watched as she chuckled, the sound almost sinister, and rose to a crouched standing position inside his medical cabin. "Go ahead…" she said dryly, an amused smirk twisted her lips momentarily before it quickly faded back to the aforementioned sneer. "Make my fucking day."

Ratchet grumbled, his wordless kvetching falling on deaf ears, but said nothing. She called his bluff, and he backed down; that one had some pretty big metaphorical ball bearings, _especially _for a human. Recalling her tone, he mentally cringed once again – he didn't know much about her, but he immediately sensed an overwhelming tendency of ruthlessness on her part. She removed her final bags from his medical cabin, and both sighed in relief as she jumped down onto the floor and swung his doors shut. However, as he moved to fling a biting remark her way, they were joined by another bot. Optimus, Smokescreen, and Bulkhead were out scouting a subterranean energon deposit, Arcee was taking Jack to work, and Bumblebee was taking a prescribed stasis nap for a chronic cranial ache. Which meant it could've only been one mech…

"Talking to yourself again doc?" Wheeljack strode into the common room, his ever-present smirk spread across his face as he chuckled richly. "I thought we agreed those voices weren't real."

The medic transformed, glaring at the other Autobot viciously whilst ignoring the flagrant use of his despised nickname. "That would actually be preferred at this point," he ground out from between gritted dental plates. "No…I've been dealing with _this_ hellion all day," he continued, scooping up the female behind him without preamble.

"Hey!" she screeched in surprise, rising to stand on his palm and face him, knees bent to absorb the shock of the upward movement resisting her own. "I have a _name_, you asshole." Her disdain was almost palpable in the dirty look she cast the medic.

Wheeljack's eyes widened in surprise, raising an optic ridge in curiosity. "Woah…" he said slowly, the shock of her brazen words still affecting him. "This one's got some bite to her."

Kayla turned around to face him, eyes smoldering with barely-suppressed anger. "I swear, if another one of you guys refers to me as an object again, I'll do to you what I did to Starscream."

The green and white mech directed a questioning look at Ratchet, who sighed in exasperation and explained, "He attacked us after destroying her housing unit, and she _somehow_ managed to fire a round into one of his major transformation seams." The medic then looked down at Kayla, and went on, "Despite the fact she did this while leaning out of my driver's side window _without a safety belt_, and could have potentially been _killed._"

The human chose to ignore this pointed remark, choosing instead to back up to the heel of Ratchet's hand before getting a running start and leaping off his fingertips, catching one of Wheeljack's chestplates. Both mechs gasped in shock, their sparks momentarily coming to a standstill out of fear for her life, should she have missed her intended target. She then proceeded to scale up the surprised mech's font, pull herself up onto the framing around his collar, and pushed her face up into his; her own visage was mere inches from his, and she glared up into his eyes with an astonishing amount of malevolence.

"I am _not_ an inanimate object," she snapped, eyes burning. "Nor am I some little curiosity. I'm an intelligent, sentient being. As such, I _refuse_ to be treated as any less." The human drew nearer still, nearly nose-to-nose with the giant mech. "And if that's going to be a problem, then I suggest you make yourself scarce in my presence, you raggedy scrapheap."

Wheeljack was taken aback, stunned as though he'd been slapped across the faceplates. He thought _Fowler_ had big ball bearings…this chick was completely fearless, incredibly stupid, or legitimately insane. More than likely a combination of the first and last; she seemed articulate enough for him to safely assume that she wasn't stupid. He honestly couldn't think of a thing to say in response to that venomous tirade, so he instead settled for an alternative approach.

"Sorry for the objectification and all," he apologized, his bright blue eyes softened and moved downcast to meet her gaze. "Won't happen again."

The human's rigid demeanor seemed to soften in kind, her glare melting into a neutral facial expression. "See that it doesn't."

Just as she moved to climb down from his shoulder, he lifted his hand up as an offering of assistance. "Hi…I'm Wheeljack" he said nonchalantly, a small smirk returning to his face as she picked her way down his fingers and into his palm.

He couldn't tell if she was going to say something else nasty or introduce herself as well, but was pleasantly surprised when she replied, "I'm Kayla."

Lost in the exchange, Ratchet cleared his throat. Both faces turned to greet him, and his eyes narrowed. "Now that everyone's acquainted, would you _mind_ clearing all of this…" he chose his next words carefully, _"stuff _out of the common room? It's only a matter of time before somebody trips on it, and that's an earful I'd prefer to avoid."

Kayla sighed irritably. "Yes, _mother_." The medic rolled his eyes, and made his way over to his laboratory to resume the previous day's activities. "The TV stays out here, though. I brought that along to share with the kids."

"_Ha. I dig her attitude already," _Wheeljack thought to himself with a grin. "That was nice of you," he remarked, stooping down to pick up some of her larger parcels with his fingertips. "I'm sure they'll like that."

"Hey…why let it go to waste?" She hoisted the large screen up into her arms, and made her way up the steps to the raised area where their old television and couch resided. "It was just going to get destroyed in my apartment."

Wheeljack said nothing, and watched as she set the screen down on the couch, turning around to unhook the old television set. She worked quickly, nimble fingers detaching the wires carefully before rearranging the contents of the makeshift stand on which it resided; after providing some resistance for the screen to rest up against, she then picked it up once more and set it down where its outdated predecessor once stood, plugging in the necessary cords before attaching the kids' video game console to it. The massive screen lit up with a press of a button, and revealed the new set to be fully functional. Satisfied with the result, Kayla turned around and noticed that all of her bags had been collected by Wheeljack, who was peering down at her curiously.

"That was pretty quick," he observed, heading down the hall toward one of the facility's old bunkers. His massive feet trod heavily on the concrete flooring, echoing throughout the corridor.

She laughed briskly, paying careful mind to stay out of the mech's path as they continued walking. "It's installing a television, not quantum mechanics." Gazing up at him, she arched a brow. "Not technologically savvy, are you?"

Now it was Wheeljack's turn to laugh, the irony not lost on him. "Hey…I _am_ technology, if you couldn't tell," an all-too-present air of pride carrying through his voice. Pride bordering on egotism, was more like it.

Kayla rolled her eyes. "And you just confirmed my suspicions of your being a douchebag," the sarcasm not lost on her escort either.

As suspicious as he may have been of the human race in its entirety, he'd done enough research on their popular culture in order to remain somewhat up to speed with the world around him, and knew what she was referring to him as. He didn't know or interact with many humans, yet derived great entertainment from this small exchange. She was obviously intelligent, and could tolerate his off brand of humor. And not only could she take it, she could dish it back out pretty well, herself. Before long they had arrived at their destination, and the mech stooped once again to deposit her belongings on the floor in front of her.

He smirked at her once again. "I'd help you unpack, but…" He gestured to his massive size, and compared it to her tiny one, clearly glad he wasn't able to assist her.

"Yeah, yeah," Kayla half-handedly waved him off, turning to her parcels before organizing them, then delving inside. Wheeljack watched in silence for several minutes as she began to sift through a bag containing her clothing, laying the articles out onto the floor to smooth them out. After they'd all been removed, she perused the selection; her eyes scanned for some of the least wrinkled items, and finally settled on several pieces before picking them up. At last, she noticed his presence. "Uh, I'm kind of going to get dressed now."

"Go ahead, don't let me stop you," he replied amusedly, a half-cocked smile spreading across his face.

What sense of humor he'd discovered her to have instantly vanished in that moment and her face took on yet another angry expression. "Get out. _Now._"

The mech chuckled to himself, massive hands rising up in defense. "Alright, alright! I'm leaving!"

Kayla's eyes didn't leave the doorway until she was positive he was gone, footsteps fading away as he distanced himself from her quarters. With a final look around, she pulled off her waterlogged boots and dropped them onto the tile floor before stripping away her soaking wet clothes, which clung to her like a second skin. She shivered as her damp skin hit the open air.

"Doesn't matter what species they are," she grumbled to herself as she pulled on a fresh pair of undergarments, and reached for her clean pair of pants. "Men are assholes."

* * *

The emergency bridge that Starscream requested did not bode well; Megatron snarled in irritation as he awaited the arrival of his second in command, who sounded quite distraught over his transmission.

"He was supposed to terminate that decrepit Autobot medic…" he seethed to Soundwave, who was standing silently nearby. "Who was _alone_, I might add." His wordless companion said nothing, but he continued,"How difficult could that possibly be? Imbecile."

As if to answer his question, the jet stumbled into the main foyer of the ship, clutching one eye with his spindly fingers. It took him only moments to notice his leader's presence. "Lord Megatron," he shuffled over and bowed. "As you can see, things went slightly awry-"

"Exactly _how_ difficult is taking out that crusty old medic?" Megatron interrupted, his eyes flashing dangerously as he cast a look of disdain upon the other mech. He then noticed that his eye was leaking energon through his fingers and chuckled. "Breakdown started a trend, did he?"

"No!" barked Starscream indignantly, visibly upset. "But one wouldn't exactly _expect_ a human to inflict this kind of damage; how could I have seen it coming?"

The Decepticon leader ignored the potential ironic humor of the mech's words, turning his attention instead to a more pressing detail. "We all know what humans are capable of," he snarled, turning away momentarily before glaring at the bleeding mech before him. "MECH…they are capable of far more than we give them credit for."

The second in command winced in pain. "This was not the work of MECH, but a civilian."

More than likely, this was not the wisest choice of words. Megatron's glare intensified, his eyes burning. "You mean to tell me that an _average_ human wounded you in this manner?" Realizing what was happening, Starscream cowered and started to back away. "If an _average_ human inflicted this kind of damage upon you, you must _truly_ be as useless as I suspected."

"Master, please!" he dodged an arm that was swung at him, and continued to back up. "It was an easy mistake to make! These humans…they're so tiny! And even their soldiers don't typically possess such-"

This time, Megatron's punch connected with Starscream's head; the force of the impact sent him flying down the main hallway, colliding painfully with the wall at the very rear. These slip ups were starting to cost them dearly, and if many more were made, the price to their cause would become even steeper. He stood there for a moment and seethed, the anger inside him mingling with the dark energon and causing a ripple of burning sensation to course through him. A tap on his shoulder stirred him from his enraged state; Soundwave was directly behind him, and had footage of the confrontation playing on the screen of his mask.

He could see from Starscream's perspective as the jet was hailing down blaster fire upon the ambulance. Nothing out of the ordinary there. But then, he saw it: a human leaned out from the medic's driver's side window, weapon in hand, and began to fire shots up at the jet. His second in command couldn't hear the weapon firing over the din, and was otherwise oblivious to her actions until one of her bullets slipped through his transformation seam and shattered his eye. Megatron could hear Starscream shriek in pain, and watched as his flight pattern diverted wildly off course before he called for an emergency bridge. So it was true…an ordinary human _had_ done this.

As if reading his leader's mind, Soundwave paused the video on a clear frame and zoomed in intensely on the human's face, clearly rendering all of her facial details.

"I never forget a face…" Megatron mused as he took in her features. "Never." He glared long and hard into the screen at her image once again, searing her face into his processor before turning to leave, still outwardly seething.

"_You have yet to hear the last of the Decepticons, human."_

* * *

One by one, the weary Autobots began to return back to their base; Optimus, Bulkhead, and Smokescreen bearing more precious energon. It seemed as though their mission had been fruitful, and just in time. Energon supplies were beginning to run low again and they'd had to ration it for several days, the process only accelerated with the additional fuel tanks to replenish.

"_More tanks to fill, but more mechs to help refill them,"_ he mused to himself. "Optimus," Ratchet called to his leader. Prime stopped picking up energon and turned to face his medic. "Kayla's home…Starscream destroyed it during the attack."

The other mech heaved a heavy sigh, his facial expression grave. "First her method of transportation, now her home. It seems her luck has been quite poor as of late." Ratchet grunted in agreement, and Optimus glanced idly around, noticing the new television she'd put up for the kids. He knew what needed to be done. "None of these incidents would have occurred were it not for us, and thusly she will be offered a permanent home here. First, until it is safe for her to otherwise leave; and then, for as long as she desires to stay."

He wasn't wild about the notion of having another human underfoot around the silo, but he knew Optimus was right; he nodded, but said nothing. Ratchet had been diligently working on the formula for synthetic energon for the last hour or so, mercifully without interruption up until the previous conversation, when he felt a tap on the back of his leg. He knew his processor wasn't conjuring up some kind of phenomenon; someone wanted his attention. Sighing heavily, the medic groaned and mentally anguished over the disturbance.

"_I was making so much progress…this distraction is going to cause me to lose momentum."_

Turning around, he noticed Kayla standing behind him, and wasn't quite sure what to think. She'd changed from her sopping wet street clothes into a pair of calf-length black leggings, another form fitting white tank top, and a red zip up sweater. Her hair was still wet, and slung up into another messy bun, pale cheeks tinted pink from the residual chill.

She'd been curiously staring up at him, but gave him a small smile and waved once he'd turned to face her. "Hi."

The medic was less irritated and more baffled now. She'd been so snappish before; what caused her sudden change of mood? And what could she possibly want? "Uh…_hi_" he responded unsurely, the informal speak coming off highly awkward through the haze of his confusion.

It was then she asked something that only Raf had on occasion, and few ever really did, now that he thought of it. "What're you doing?"

"Working on a formula for synthetic energon," he replied evenly, gesturing to the ocean of laboratory equipment settled upon his table. He noticed her perplexed face, and continued,"Energon is our life's blood. It is what fuels us, our weapons, and sustains our species as an entirety. And it's in terribly short supply these days.

"I can see why you'd want to produce it synthetically, then," the female agreed, nodding solemnly. As Ratchet was about to turn around, she asked another question he wasn't expecting. "Is it alright if I observe?"

The medic was flabbergasted. He couldn't recall the last time someone had actively taken an interest in his work, easily centuries ago at the very least. On the one hand, he still didn't know her –or any possible motivation of hers– very well, but on the other hand, it'd been so long since someone was actually curious about his vocation that he found the opportunity very difficult to resist. Arcee had finally made her way back, Optimus had rejoined them out in the common area from the energon storage room, and his gaze met that of his old friend; Prime had witnessed the conversation and smiled softly at him, nodding wordlessly in encouragement. It was all he needed.

"Certainly." Ratchet lowered his hand and she cautiously stepped aboard, her black running shoes softly shuffling her weight into his palm. Paying special mind to his charge, he lifted her up to his shoulder where she clambered off and perched herself, supporting herself by placing a hand against the side of his head.

Once he was certain she was situated, he resumed his work. As odd as it seemed, with an additional pair of eyes watching, he became more confident; it was as though he needed to impress his silent observer. In an effort to be a bit slicker in his movements, he nearly overturned a beaker full of a bubbling solution. He managed to catch it, but this minor blunder wasn't lost on his companion.

"No need to be fancy," Kayla informed him, patting his shoulder in reassurance. "We're both professionals here. Just do your thing."

She was right. He released a shaky chuckle, and decided to test the fluid that he'd nearly upset. Taking a small sample, the medic added several drops of fluid to it in order to test its PH balance. It took several moments, but the sample at last began to change colors. Watching the results appear before his eyes, he frowned deeply and growled.

"Still far too acidic", Ratchet mumbled aloud, brow turning down in dissatisfaction. He turned to Kayla, and further explained himself, "The last synthetic energon that I generated worked well as fuel, but had a myriad of unpleasant side effects." He mentally shuttered as he recalled the memory of how aggressive and irrational it had made him, then shook his head as though to dispel the thoughts. "I was able to pinpoint the ingredient that caused these unwanted behavioral changes and remove it, but it left the mixture chemically unstable."

"So now, the mixture is stable…just too acidic to sustain normal function within your bodies," Kayla deduced, turning her gaze to meet his.

The medic was impressed. Then again, she was a medical student; thorough study of the sciences was par for the course in her education. Regardless, her quick and accurate conclusion stirred him. "Precisely," he affirmed. "I have attempted to use various different bases, but most seem to compromise the integrity of the formula."

"Calcium hydroxide?"Kayla suggested, eyebrows raised. "Potassium hydroxide? What about lithium hydroxide, rubidium hydroxide, or cesium hydroxide? Maybe barium hydroxide?"

Yet again, Ratchet was intrigued with her knowledge of chemistry. However, her suggestions were all moot. He sighed, then explained, "Already tried them. At one point I contemplated using elements from Earth in order to forge a _new_ chemical, but I have yet to find the time to or the materials to do so-"

"Sodium hydroxide?"

The ambulance halted mid-sentence, confused by the sudden interruption. "Pardon me?"

"Sodium hydroxide," she repeated, the tone of her voice rising as though he were stupid. " Ratchet's eyes widened, his mouth coming open in slight shock. "Are you serious?!" the human demanded, rising to stand on his shoulder and flinging her hands in the air. "Sodium hydroxide is not only the most _widely used_ alkaline neutralizing chemical, but the least expensive way to dilute acids! You're a scientist…_how did you not know this?_"

"I am a _Cybertronian_ scientist, not an Earth scientist!" Normally not one to be perturbed, Ratchet had now become quite flustered. "I have only recently begun to educate myself in this planet's scientific field, not mastered it."

Kayla smirked, clearly amused by the state her words had left him in. "Relax, doc. I'm just giving you grief."

Ratchet nearly blew a fuse upon being called his loathsome appellation. "Do _not_ call me 'doc'", he snarled , dental plates flashing momentarily. "My designation is _Ratchet_, and you would do well to remember that."

She rolled her eyes and laughed. "Alright _Ratchet_. Cool your jets. If someone could give me a lift back to school today, I could speak with my chemistry professor; I'm sure he'd be willing to order some sodium hydroxide for me."

As if someone had pulled at him with invisible strings, Wheeljack chose to make his entrance. "I'd just _love to_." There was no denying it was a sarcastic remark, but he seemed sincere enough in his offer. Both Ratchet and Kayla shot him a skeptical glance, each seeming to be thinking the same thing. "I didn't stutter, did I? I'll take her."

Though both still uncertain, they nodded in agreement. "Great. Thanks." Kayla then appraised the both of them before continuing,"Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I'm going for a run. Need to blow off some steam." And with that, she took off out of the common area and down one of the hallways, pretty quickly for a human, both mechs noted.

"She's not going outside, is she?" the medic mused, moving to watch from the archway as she touched the wall of the east wing, then turned around and began running for the west wing.

"No," Optimus informed him, joining in his observation. "She expressed a requirement for exercise to me earlier, and I allowed her to run the lengths of the corridors as opposed to outside and requiring a chaperone."

"And who exactly might _she_ be?" asked a familiar voice. Both mechs turned around to be greeted with Agent Fowler's presence, and he didn't appear to be amused. "Prime, is this the new human you contacted me about?"

"Indeed." He also joined Ratchet and Wheeljack, watching as she covered the distance quite rapidly, seemingly oblivious the audience she'd gathered. "I have explained her circumstances to you, but there are still several matters that must be discussed between the two of you. Primarily in regards as to how we must compensate her for her losses."

"Well, call her over and let's get this started. I still can't believe you managed to entangle yet another human being into this mess."

Optimus stepped into the hallway, crouching down to her level. Shouting would have been useless, as she had a pair of earbuds in her ears, playing music for her to exercise with. Seeing that he wanted to speak to her, she slowed to a trot, then stopped before him. "There is someone who would like to speak to you," he informed her, gesturing to the common area of the base.

She looked curious, and jogged to where he had indicated. All those present were in for a surprise.

As Agent Fowler saw her, his facial expression melded into one of surprise. "Xenakis?"

Kayla froze in her tracks, eyes wide. "Fowler?"

Both smiled and laughed, stepping forward to shake hands enthusiastically. They knew each other. "How ya been?" asked Fowler, breaking their handshake. "It's been a while; haven't seen you since your Navy Cross ceremony."

She laughed, and the proceeded to each take a seat on the steps leading up to the scaffolding near the computer screens. "I'm alive. Went through another deployment, got nominated for an MOH, got out, got a bachelor's degree in biology and about to finish medical school," she smiled again, gesturing vaguely with her arms. "So you could say I'm keeping busy."

"MOH?" Ratchet questioned, optic ridge rising. It had been clear that the others were curious as well, but did not want to interject into the conversation.

"A Medal of Honor," Fowler explained, his tone serious. "It's the highest possible military honor, and is awarded for acts of extreme valor and heroism at the risk of one's life."

There was a brief moment of silence; everyone wanted to know but nobody wanted to ask what she'd done to receive the aforementioned recognition – it was clearly combat related, and as warriors, they knew stories of war were better left to be told at the discretion of the teller, not arbitrarily requested. All were solemn, and gazed respectfully at the human, who was clearly uncomfortable with all the attention she was receiving.

Sensing her increasing discomfort, Fowler continued on, "So how's that leg treating you?"

"Which one?" Kayla asked with a smile. They both laughed for several moments, inside knowledge clearly in play, and grateful for the distraction. "Nah, they're both okay. I'll get twinges of pain when a cold front comes in, but what war wound doesn't hurt once in a while?" He nodded in agreement, and she noted,"Spending your days with alien robots these days, I see."

"For quite a while, yes," he affirmed with a chuckle. "Which is why I was so surprised to see _you_ here."

"It's definitely been one hell of a week. And to think I called my life a month ago crazy." Kayla rolled her eyes and pulled at the sleeves of her jacket. "I go to work, and just as I'm about to leave, a couple of twenty foot tall robots crush my car. I go home to get a clean change of clothes, and another one blows up my apartment. Go figure."

"Optimus," Arcee interrupted. Everyone present turned to face her, her urgent tone seeming to command their complete attention. "Seems the Cons aren't too happy with our guest's assassination attempt on Starscream; they just directly mentioned her, and have made retribution a priority."

Kayla's face blanched, and Prime looked to Fowler, who cleared his throat. "That's actually what I came here to talk to you about, Xenakis." She turned to face him again, worry shining in her eyes. "Now that you're a Decepticon target, you need to stay here for your own protection." He saw a ghost of fear wipe across her face, and chuckled,"And don't worry, it's rent free. All utilities included." This earned him a shaky laugh and he smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder. "And cheer up soldier…haven't you _always_ wanted to own a sports car?"

This time, her mouth gaped in shock, eyes wide and hands to her lips. "W-what are you talking about?" Her words were unsteady and crackly, in incredible disbelief.

Fowler smiled wide, clearly relishing the suspense he was building up. "Well, we need to replace your car. And if you're going to be outrunning Decepticons, your best bet is with speed." He could see the cogs in her mind beginning to turn, piecing together what he was saying. "And to do that, you'll need to pack some serious muscle under the hood, as well as some _serious_ artillery." He reached into his pocket and tossed her a pair of keys. "Car's outside. But before you go…I pulled some strings and managed to get these for you. In light of the current circumstances, I thought you should have them."

That being said, he slid a large olive drab canvas bag to her across the floor. Kayla looked up at him curiously, and slowly opened it, gasping when her hands touched the first item inside. As though handling a fragile relic, she extracted a gun from the bag with careful hands, cradling it before setting it on her lap and checking its serial number.

She breathed deeply, eyes glassing over. "My old M-4…" She peered in the bag again, and smiled,"Some ammo, and even a few grenades!" It seemed to take a few moments for her to take it all in; she appeared to be on the verge of tears as her fingers delicately traced the weapon in her lap. "This baby's gone to hell and back with me…" Kayla glanced back up at the other human, her eyes misty. "Thank you so much, Fowler – this means the world to me. How can I ever repay you?"

Fowler knew Kayla long enough to know that she rarely displayed emotion like this; she despised feeling so vulnerable. And he knew what to say. "With a sparring mach. Former Army versus former Navy…if you can handle it." He smirked, knowing for certain he'd receive only one response.

"Bring it on, old timer."

"We get to see Fowler lay on the smackdown? SWEET!" Miko interjected, the kids having finally been allowed back into the common area with the close of the conversation. She and Bulkhead exchanged several pumped up,"Yeah!"s before launching into an in depth conversation about an upcoming concert.

Ratchet snorted in disgust. "So barbaric…", only to see Arcee lean over to Optimus and mutter with a smile.

"Well, this should be interesting."

* * *

**Author's Note**: And there you have it! Once again, I apologize for taking so long to update. But now that finals are finally over (wordplay, LOL), I'm already working on the next chapter! If you liked what you read, please review, favorite, subscribe for update alerts and all that good stuff; it means the world to me when you do, and lets me know I'm doing my job. Constructive criticism is always welcome, as well. Thanks for reading and please drop me a line in a review! :)


	5. Not So Different After All

**Author's Note**: Hi everyone! My spring break has just come to an end, and I've been working my tail off all week on this chapter for you! Each of these babies is around four thousand words on average, so for me to manage to bang out _two_ in a week is just…holy balls. O.o

I'd love to get this story out there more, so if you could spread the love as much as possible, I would be so thankful! For me, it's not about the reviews, favorites, or subscribes…just how many people I can reach; the more, the better. However, I do always love to hear from my lovely readers! It absolutely makes my day. :)

Constructive criticism is always welcome, of course, but feel free to suggest things you'd like to see as well! I'm always open to new ideas, and like I said, love to hear from you. Hope you enjoy the chapter, and feel free to drop me a line in a review. ^_^

A Medic Affair

_Not So Different After All_

_Ratchet snorted in disgust. "So barbaric…", only to see Arcee lean over to Optimus and mutter with a smile._

"_Well, this should be interesting."_

* * *

Upon hearing of the spectacle that was to take place in their common area, the Autobots had cleared out of the vast majority of the floor space, seating themselves around the perimeter of the room; it was almost like a gladiatorial match back on Cybertron, in the days before the war. Agent Fowler and Kayla stood on opposite ends of the room, each stretching in preparation for their sparring match. Ratchet shot Optimus a look of deep concern from across the room and the larger mech rose, kneeling between the two participants.

"Are you certain this is safe?" he questioned them, eyes glowing with a faint glimpse of worry. "Fighting is a very serious matter, and has the potential to go awry quite quickly."

"Nah," the female responded nonchalantly, shaking out her hands in anticipation. "The safety word is 'spork'; anybody says it, and the fight immediately stops. It's like a failsafe precaution that ensures nobody is in more pain than they can handle."

"Not that _I'll_ be the one using it," Fowler smirked, removing his coat and button down shirt.

Kayla snorted. "You say that now, but I say put your money where your mouth is." She also removed her jacket and tossed it aside, cracking her knuckles with a grin.

"WOAH," Miko and Bulkhead chimed in unison, taking in her appearance. "_Sweet_ ink!"

Taken by surprise by their sudden reaction, Ratchet turned to see what they were talking about. Instead of pale white skin like that that covered the rest of her body, her arms were blanketed in drawings from shoulder to wrist. He was unable to make out the precise details from his position against the wall, but noticed a few very distinctive aspects; her right arm bore an old English style letter "D", the numbers "313", and red and white tire with wings on it. He was also able to see what looked like names and dates, as well as some writing that appeared to be quotations of some sort; on the top of her forearm was a skyline of a city, and her shoulder bore a large, elaborately drawn orchid which wrapped down along her upper arm.

Her left arm bore what appeared to be a military unit crest, more names and dates as well as a caduceus, which he assumed was in tribute to her affiliation with the medical profession. More writing scrawled down her forearm and stopped just above her wrist; he could see there were many smaller pictures connecting the larger ones on both of her arms, everything melding together with intricate black shading. It was like a living breathing work of art – he was absolutely shocked, almost fascinated by it, but said nothing as she was showing Miko and Bulkhead, explaining their various significances enthusiastically.

Finally, Fowler interrupted her reminiscing. "Your tattoos are cool and all…but could we get on with this?" He pounded his fist into his empty hand, continuing, "I haven't sparred in _years!_"

Kayla turned to meet his gaze, her eyes flashing mischievously as she grinned back at him. "You're pretty eager for a beatdown," she drawled, slowly moving to the center of the room. "Let's see what the Rangers taught you."

"Ready?"

"Ready."

Both started to bounce on their toes, circling around each other with their arms up, seeming to wait for a signal to start the match.

"Fight!" commanded Bulkhead ominously, clearly enjoying his role in the endeavor.

As soon as the word left his mouth, Kayla threw her first punch, aimed right at Fowler's face. He wasn't quick enough to block it and her fist connected with his nose, which erupted in a geyser of blood. He grunted and staggered back, clutching his face for several moments before lunging back in and swinging at her; she grabbed his closed hand at the wrist, twisted his arm, and pulled it up behind his back. The Autobots watched as he bent over at the waist and used his body as leverage to throw her, her body landing hard on the pavement in front of him. She was up in an instant and faked another punch, then executed a particularly brutal side kick to his exposed ribs with the back of her foot. He collapsed, the breath clearly knocked out of him as he gasped for air.

The female walked over, clearly pleased with her performance. "Give up yet, old man?" The tone was gloating, almost condescending, and Fowler was having none of it.

Without a word, he reached forward with both arms, grabbed her ankles and yanked them upward, her body once again crashing down to the ground; everybody gasped as her unprotected head nearly made contact with the pavement. She immediately pounced on him and got him into a chokehold, pulling him down and then sitting on top of him, her arm crushing his throat and legs squeezing his chest. He struggled hard, face beginning to turn a deep shade of red. In a last ditch attempt to free himself, he flipped onto his back, attempting to apply enough pressure to her body in order to get her to release him. She only squeezed harder, and he began to choke.

"Spork!" he rasped, still fighting valiantly. "Spork, goddammit! Get off me, you moose!"

Kayla chuckled, a rich, deep sound, and finally clambered off of her opponent; a triumphant smile positively _gleamed_ in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the silo, her pearly white teeth in stark contrast to her dark pink lips. For yet another moment, Ratchet felt his spark momentarily shudder, though his composure remained firm externally. She caught his gaze on her and her smile stretched into a grin, exposing more flawlessly aligned denta before biting her lip, sharp tip of her canine tooth pulling at the skin almost nervously. The medic blinked, attempting to dispel the immense crushing sensation that seemed to plague his chestplates.

"_Primus…why in the name of the Allspark do I __**feel**__ like this?"_ he questioned himself as he watched her help Fowler up and shake his hand to signify the end of the match. _"Why did something as insignificant as her smile place such a hold over me?"_

He had to stop reading too deeply into things like this, instead choosing to listen in on the conversation between the two combatants. "So…" Kayla trailed off, twirling the keys to her new car around her index finger. "Riddle me this: How'd you know to bring _my_ weapon with you, if you didn't know I was going to be here?"

Fowler laughed, clearly expecting this question at some point or another. "I had the guys run the serial number on the engine of your old car, then cross referenced the vehicle with DMV records." They both murmured something quietly before he continued,"Besides the point…exactly _how many_ young women are running around this place with the last name _'Xenakis'?_"

Now it was Kayla's turn to laugh. "I suppose you're right. It _is _a rather distinctive surname."

"Middle Eastern?" he questioned her. "Maybe Eastern European?"

"Close-ish,"she replied amusedly, nose twitching imperceptibly. "It's Greek. My dad immigrated here from Greece and my mom immigrated from Ireland."

"Which would make you a first generation immigrant," Fowler deduced, the two of them beginning to head outside in order to examine her new mode of transportation. "Didn't he run a Greco-Roman wrestling studio at one point?"

"I think," she laughed confusedly, tone hazy as they began to retreat further away. "I'm the first one to be born in America, so maybe I'm a first generation _American?_ I forget how all this shit works…" Her face took on a surprised look at his mention of her father, and she continued,"Yeah, actually, he did. That's how I got so interested in martial arts…"

"No wonder you beat me: unfair advantage."

The two had long since disappeared and the Autobots dispersed when a familiar voice approached Ratchet from behind.

"You like her."

The medic turned around, facing Wheeljack with a confused expression, one optic ridge raised unnaturally high. "What?"

"You're many things, sunshine, but deaf isn't one of them," the other mech scoffed, prodding him in the chestplate with an extended finger. "You like that crazy new human."

"Pft." Ratchet rolled his eyes and turned around, refocusing his attention back onto his synthetic energon formula once again. "She's an irritating, loudmouth know-it-all with ball bearings far too big for her tiny stature." He paused in his work briefly, seemingly to contemplate. "I believe humans refer to it as a 'Napoleon complex', or something to that extent."

"Ahh…" Wheeljack countered, relishing the medic's aggravated state. "I think she's proved her worth, doc." He smirked as the other mech glared at the use of his loathsome moniker. "After all, she _did_ suggest a possible solution to this synthetic energon issue." Ratchet said nothing, allowing a tense and uncomfortable silence to settle over the both of them. "Do you even know who Napoleon is?" the Wrecker chimed in abruptly, deriving vast enjoyment from interrupting the medic at work.

"Would you _please_ find somebody else to annoy?" the ambulance finally snapped, clearly in no mood for any kind of fun. "I am_ very busy _here!"

For the second time that day, Wheeljack was on the defensive side again, raising his hands in a sign of defeat. "Sheesh, I was just asking," he muttered with a grin, beginning to head toward the tunnel for a long overdue visit to the Jackhammer. But he abruptly stopped, then turned around to face the cantankerous medic once again. "Here…" he extended a small, cylindrical shaped container to Ratchet, who slowly, and very suspiciously, accepted it. "I know you're not exactly the social butterfly, and don't tend to get out a lot…but it might do you some good to get to know the humans a little better."

That being said, and without further explanation the Wrecker turned and left without a backward glance, leaving Ratchet free to examine the contents of the container the other mech had given him. He moved to pull it apart gently, but it wouldn't budge. Now even more intrigued, the medic ran a scan on the device, and his eyes widened: it was a holographic projector. Often utilized by humans for various other purposes, it seemed that Wheeljack had infused this one with some kind of proton particles…thereby enabling the resulting holoform to become _tangible_ with its surrounding environment. It was a simple, yet revolutionary concept; he would now be able to interact with the Earth as a _human_ would. Though Wheeljack had intended it to be used to broaden his social horizons, he had in all reality opened up countless _scientific_ doors as well! Primus, the possibilities were limitless! He could now _sit down_ with Earth scientists and discuss important findings and other-

"Bye Ratchet!" he heard Kayla call to him from across the room. She had her head stuck out of Wheeljack's driver side window, and waved enthusiastically to him before the other bot took off through the tunnel, delivering her to her university as promised.

Her departure had roused him from his daze, and he struggled to regain his train of thought. It seemed as though every time he mentally scrabbled for purchase, more and more details slipped away from his processor, like he was trying to retain water in his cupped hands. Arcee noticed this, and made her way over toward him.

"You okay, Ratch?" she asked him softly, her tone concerned as she placed a hand on her friend's shoulder.

"Mmm," he sighed and turned to face her. "Just a lot going on, is all. Seems like my processor is everywhere."

"I know the feeling," she agreed, leaning her back against one of the nearby walls. She seemed to be appraising the medic, trying to analyze his behavior, somehow. "You ever think about having a human companion?"

So _that's_ what this was all about. Primus, could no one think of anything else? This planet was _covered_ in humans; why was the presence of a new one such conversation fodder? "I never thought of it," he answered honestly, his gaze returning to his work. "I typically tend to have more pressing issues on my mind. The war, our energon supplies, Cybertron, our _health and wellbeing_…" The medic sighed deeply and shut his eyes momentarily, the mere mention of these burdens seeming to weigh down upon him. "It is all-consuming, quite honestly. Never leaves a great deal of room in my processor for much else."

Arcee sighed as well. Leave it to Ratchet to always bring the grimness of the situation to light, with so much good still around them. It was as though someone had draped a cold, wet blanket around her shoulders, a slight chill momentarily gripping her spark. Then she thought of Jack; he was always so happy and fun loving, always into some form of mischief or another, and yet…intelligent, had a good head upon his shoulders. He could be trusted to make good decisions, and never had much of an issue making her laugh. Being around Jack made their current situation seem not quite so bad in her eyes, and always gave her a reason to smile. And if a human companion did this for her, then a mech with so much on his mind as Ratchet could definitely use the friendship.

At last, the two-wheeler finally spoke. "Too much on a mech's mind will only lead him to ruin," Arcee informed him seriously. It was unusual to hear her speak so gravely; so unusual that Ratchet actually ceased his proceedings and turned to face her. He said nothing, waiting for her to continue speaking. "What I mean to say is that if you're constantly focusing in on the grimness of it all…it's enough to eventually make you go mad, or lose yourself in despair. It isn't good for a mech to be constantly brooding." The weight of her words hung in the air, the gravity behind their meaning so thick, it was nearly palpable. Neither one knew quite what to say, and it was at that moment that Optimus chose to make his presence known, having heard the entire exchange.

"I believe Arcee is right," he informed the medic, also placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Having a human companion seems to have quite visibly boosted her morale, as well as those of Bumblebee and Bulkhead. You carry the weight of us all on your shoulders, my friend…" Ratchet looked up into his leader's eyes; they were kind, but bright with concern. The worry seemed to burn behind them like a flame, and Ratchet could feel his spark beginning to knot. "Wheeljack gave you that holographic projector for a very specific reason. And though his methods may not always be orthodox, I believe that his spark was in the right place."

"_Optimus praising Wheeljack?"_ the ambulance thought incredulously, his mind nearly reeling. _"By the Allspark, this solar cycle is becoming odder and odder."_

It was as though Prime could read his processor, having been friends for so long. "I know you were never a social mech on Cybertron…but from my interactions with her, I can discern that the two of you have much in common. Wheeljack has informed me that Kayla wishes to purchase alcohol on their way home from Jasper University." Ratchet had known Optimus for long enough to know where he was going with this conversation. "Perhaps tonight, a cube of high grade energon is in order for you, Ratchet; sit down with her, and merely talk. I believe you will find that there is indeed more to her-"

"than meets the eye," finished Ratchet, well aware of his leader's favorite phrase. "You say that about _everyone_, Optimus." The larger bot said nothing, choosing instead to give his CMO a small, knowing smile coupled with a raised optic ridge. Ratchet put palm to face, realizing that he'd just made _not_ socializing with their newest addition inexcusable; he grumbled under his breath, then rolled his eyes skyward and sighed, his hand playing with the holographic projector. This couldn't take long to install.

"I suppose _one_ night off could not cause much harm…"

* * *

It turned out that locating a human in their relatively small base could be far more difficult than he initially anticipated. Ratchet had combed the halls, checked the roof, her quarters, and their common area, but had still found no trace of her. It was only after he'd asked Optimus of her whereabouts that he'd discovered she'd asked about human exits to the base, and he'd found her outside. She was standing in the pouring rain, a glass of alcohol in one hand and a cigarette in the other, having removed herself from the confines of the base to prevent the secondhand smoke from leaving a lingering odor inside as a courtesy to the Autobots.

"Uh…hi," the medic awkwardly greeted her, a cube of high grade clutched in his hand as he watched her exhale a cloud of grey smoke. Primus, this was a lot more difficult than he remembered. "Would you mind if I, ahh…joined you?"

"Sure," she agreed readily, pulling tighter on the drawstrings of her hooded shirt as she flicked her cigarette, discarding ash onto the ground by her feet.

"Isn't smoking very bad for humans?" he questioned her, his gaze focused on the brown-tipped white stick between her fingers.

Kayla took a carefully measured sip of the deep amber liquid in her glass, seeming to ponder the taste for a moment before looking up at him. "It's appalling, actually." The self-contamination of her body was ironic; she was nearly a physician, and knew the probable risks associated with such behavior. Yet she continued to do so anyway. She too seemed to notice the irony and laughed. "A nasty habit I picked up in the Navy," the human explained to him, putting the cigarette to her lips and taking a brief puff. "Haven't had one in almost a year, actually, but with the stress of the last week and all…I caved."

Ratchet nodded in agreement and seated himself on the floor, so that he might be a bit closer to her. "It's understandable. Your life has taken a fairly dramatic turn as of late, has it not?"

"To say the least." Both took a moment to take a sip of their respective drinks as a comfortable silence washed over the two of them. For several moments, all that could be heard was the pounding of the rain, their occasional swallowing, and the flick of a lighter as the human lit herself a fresh cigarette. She took a deep pull from it, tip glowing red-hot for several seconds before she stopped and held the smoke. After several more moments, she exhaled and directed her attention back to her companion. "I ordered some sodium hydroxide for you, by the way. Should be in around the beginning of next week."

"Thank you. I appreciate your help." For the first time since he'd known her, Ratchet gave her lingering, genuine smile, and was rewarded with one in kind as well. "It's been a pleasant change having another scientifically minded individual around."

Kayla laughed and took another sip of her drink. "It's nice to talk with someone that _enjoys _the field. So many of my cohorts are only doing this for the money…it's actually really upsetting to me, you know?"

Ratchet nodded slowly, fingers dancing over the rim of his energon cube as he pondered what to say next. "Back on Cybertron, being a medic is more for prestige, honor, than the money." He took took a sip of his drink, and continued,"Granted, it did pay well…but it wasn't the primary emphasis. Most mechs viewed the training as too rigorous and mentally taxing to be merely financially beneficial."

"Exactly my point!" she interjected, pointing in his direction as if she'd had an epiphany. "I've never been more stressed out in my life than I am now; you couldn't pay me _any_ amount of money to go through this if I didn't truly enjoy my area of study."

The medic took a moment to mull over her words, one part in particularly glaring out in his mind almost like a beacon. "More stressful than combat?" he asked her, optic ridge rising high in incredulous curiosity.

"Way more," came her immediate response. She paused to light a new cigarette, taking several puffs before explaining. "When I was a corpsman, I only had to worry about two things: keeping my men alive, and keeping myself alive. As a medical student…I'm far more stressed than I ever was as a corpsman."

"Why do you feel that way, if I may ask?" The question was sincere, Ratchet's eyes softening as he leaned down to better hear her response.

It was at this point that she took a long pull from her cigarette, the mere mention of the topic seeming to stir anxiety within her. "When I was a medic, my men looked up to me; field medics have the moniker 'angels of mercy'. There were no games, no hidden agendas. They trusted me to take care of them, and I trusted them to watch my back while I helped others. It was no more, no less than that." Her eyes narrowed, and the hand holding her glass of scotch clenched hard as she tipped it up to take another sip. "But with medical school…it's all just _fucking_ politics." She looked up into his eyes, anger burning in her own like fire. "It's all a matter of kissing ass. You have to basically _schmooze_ your way through, and _hope_ the right people _like_ you. Fuck, half the people in my class, in _all honesty_, have NO business being physicians."

Ratchet could feel the animosity pouring out of her, the rant in of itself seeming to physically drain her. A shaky hand raised her cigarette to her lips, and she took a long, healthy drag from it; several moments passed as she held in the smoke for as long as she could before slowly releasing it in an almost cathartic fashion.

After she'd calmed herself a bit, he spoke up once again. "Based on the military regulations I've researched, very few women are allowed into combat with the same access as men are." Her eyes widened in offense, and she was about to launch into another tirade about men and sexism before he hastily clarified, "I was merely curious how you came upon the opportunity to see as much field experience as you have, as this is atypical of most female members of the military."

"_Good save,"_ the human thought sarcastically to herself as she took another big gulp of her drink, and a long drag from the end of her cigarette. "Well…" she began thoughtfully, snuffing the spent cigarette and lighting another. "I suppose I'm a victim of circumstance, you could say." The medic leaned forward curiously; she possessed a way with words that compelled him to listen, for one reason or another. "I lived a fairly typical life growing up. My parents were both immigrants working small time jobs, so we never really had a lot of money or lived in a nice area….but we were happy." She leaned down, poured another glassful of alcohol and took several big swigs of it, wincing as she did so, before setting the bottle down and continuing, "Anyway, one night when I was fifteen, my parents took me out to dinner to celebrate my good grades in school. It was pouring rain outside, but we rarely went out to restaurants because of the whole money issue, so we weren't going to let bad weather keep us home." She sighed deeply. Clearly this was a much more emotionally rooted question than he'd intended…

"Dinner was good, and it was a pretty typical night until we left to go home. We were driving on the highway, and all I remember was seeing two headlights come down the road toward our car…"It was then that she took a deep, wavering breath. She then proceeded to drain the remainder of her second glass of alcohol and pour a third, lighting a new cigarette in the process. It took several moments of quiet and a couple long pulls from her cigarette before she was able to continue, this time, her voice noticeably unstable. "Our car had been hit head on. A guy driving the opposite way was completely intoxicated, and crossed over the median." Kayla slid down the side of the wall, her rear end coming to rest on the ground before she tipped half of her new glass into her mouth.

"_Oh no…"_ Ratchet thought to himself as he watched her struggle to keep her composure together. _"Th-this is terrible…I should have never asked…"_ He briefly contemplated an 'I'm sorry', but then realized,_ "Apologizing will not change anything. Nobody will come back. It will only lead to an awkward acknowledgement", _and kept silent.

As though seeming to sense his emotional response, she looked up to meet his gaze. Her eyes shone with emotion as she fiddled with her glass in an attempt to keep her reaction measured. "My parents died on impact, mercifully. But I was only rendered unconscious. The car rolled down a hill into a ravine, and essentially wrapped itself around a tree; I received massive trauma to my ovaries-" she noted a confused look on his face, then elaborated, "my reproductive organs." It wasn't like that made anything less horrific; there was a moment of silence between the two of them, the awkwardness that came with opening oneself to a stranger and being confided in about personal matters, but it lasted only a few moments.

"The point of the story being that because I don't have the hygiene issues that come with normally menstruating women, I was able to enter combat with males. Providing, of course, that I met their physical ability and endurance requirements," she explained with a nervous chuckle, collecting all the cigarette butts she'd discarded onto the ground and dropped them into the empty package. "Anyway…" Kayla dropped her garbage into a nearby wastebasket and walked back inside, closing the door behind her. She was soaked to the bone from the rain, but still managed to smile up at him. "Was there ever a 'Missus Ratchet' back on Cybertron?"

For a moment, Ratchet was completely stunned. She was able to tell such a gut wrenching story…yet still remain impressively stoic as she did so. He couldn't believe she was able to speak so casually of it, and then ask him such a question without succumbing to emotions. The medic knew humans were strong, but to see such resilience in action was almost humbling. It took him several seconds to realize what she was asking, and his faceplates heated as comprehension dawned upon him.

The ambulance anxiously cleared his throat, chuckling nervously as he took a rather large gulp of high grade. As the liquid began to burn its way down the back of his throat and into his fuel tank, he began to feel himself relax. "No…" he replied with a small smile. "I am afraid not, unfortunately." Her shocked facial expression seemed to act as a response in of itself, her eyebrows raised high as she took another swig from her glass and peered up at him from under the rim. "I became more enamored with my career than I did with the prospect of meeting femmes!" he laughed, the pleasant effects of the high grade beginning to wipe across his processor. "How humans say 'marrying the job'." She too laughed as well, clearly understanding his point of view as she raised her glass to him. "Was there ever a 'Mister Xenakis'?" he questioned her in response, curious as to what she would have to say.

"Pfft." She let out a bark of laughter and snorted. Ratchet couldn't help himself and burst out laughing at the humorous sound that she'd made, and she laughed even harder; the two of them stood there tittering away like children for several moments before she finally took a sip of scotch and steadied herself. "The only 'Mister Xenakis' in my life was my dad," she scoffed amusedly, walking over and proceeding to lean against his leg; he shivered as her cold body made contact with his now pleasantly buzzing chassis. "There was once a man I thought I might spend my life with, but he committed infidelity while I was on my last combat deployment." She swirled her alcohol thoughtfully in her glass for several moments, then tilted her head to look up at him. "Unfortunate…but not uncommon in the military. So now, I guess you could say I'm married to my career as well."

"I'm very sorry…" the medic apologized to her, cupping his hand around her back in what could be described as a comforting fashion. "Truly. As much of a nuisance as you may be," he said with a small chuckle, gently scooping her up into his palm to bring her up to his eye level. "You are not deserving of such treatment."

"Awwwwww," his companion cooed, leaning forward on his hand to get even closer toward his face. He could smell the potent beverage on her breath, mingled with the unmistakable odor of her cigarettes; it was unpleasant, yet strangely intoxicating. "You're not so bad either, _Hatchet_." The impish grin upon her face told him she was teasing him. It might have been the high grade, or it may have been the fact he might be learning to _enjoy_ her company…but either way, he could feel _something_ at work. He decided to allow this new nickname, and chuckled as he ran it through his processor a few times.

"_Hatchet…a sharp, deadly weapon. I think I can learn to live with that nickname,"_ he mused to himself as she climbed up onto his shoulder unsteadily. "_Definitely prefer it to 'doc' any day of the week."_

"I guess we're not so different after all," he casually noted, mind still somewhat preoccupied with his new moniker, making the candid response more telling than it first appeared. The medic heard her soft "Mhmm" in the back of his mind, and allowed himself to slip into a bit of a reverie. Several moments of silence passed between the two, the conversation coming to a pleasant lull.

"Hey Ratch?" Kayla interrupted his daze, tapping his faceplate gently to garner his attention. "If you're not busy tomorrow night…do you think you could possibly spare some time to help me study?" He turned to face her, intrigued with the possibility of his assistance actually being _requested_ as opposed to given unsolicited. "I have a big exam on Monday night, and could definitely use the extra help, you know?"

Tomorrow night? Sundays he typically went over the base inventory and analyzed their energon consumption reports. But he believed if he shuffled tasks around during the day and maybe assigned out some of the more menial ones…he might be able to take off early in order to help her. "I suppose I could rearrange my schedule for this," he informed her pleasantly, a small smile gracing his faceplates with the knowledge that his companion actually _asked_ for his help. "Say around 1930 hours?"

He was pleased when she grinned back up at him, enthusiasm permeating her alcohol-induced euphoria. "Sure! That sounds great!" she agreed happily before yawning hugely, laying down across his palm and stretching her entire body leisurely –complete with popping and cracking joints– before sitting upright once more, shooting him a tired smile. "But this alcohol is catching up to me pretty quickly," she admitted sheepishly, her cheeks now blushing from the physiological changes in her body in reaction to her drinks. "It would probably be best if I headed for bed."

"I concur," he agreed with her wearily, optics slowly shuttering. Watching her yawn seemed to amplify his own degree of sleepiness as well. And without another word, he rose to his feet and began walking down the corridor toward her quarters.

Neither spoke during the brief trip from his lab to the bunkers, enjoying a comfortable silence interrupted only by his heavy footsteps on the concrete flooring. For all his discomfort that he typically experienced whilst getting to know someone new, this was one aspect of their relationship that Ratchet never grew tired of. They didn't need to be constantly talking in order to enjoy each other's company, the silence speaking as loudly as any conversation ever would. It was a pleasant change of pace, one the medic could safely say that he could quickly become accustomed to. After less than a minute or so of walking, they arrived at their destination. Ratchet kneeled down on one knee before collecting his charge, and depositing her safely on the floor. But he didn't immediately rise to his feet and leave.

Kayla took full advantage of this opportunity. "Thanks for hanging out with me tonight, Ratchet," she thanked the medic sincerely, a soft smile gracing her lips. "I had a really good time getting to know you a little bit more; we should do this again sometime."

Normally the medic would agree, but never really follow up on the invitation. And he realized this. But this time was going to be different. "I enjoyed myself as well," he allowed himself to admit to her, a rather nervous smile twitching its way across his mouthplates. "And…I would like that. Very much so."

He was astonished to see that she'd actually been waiting on baited breath for his response, exhaling in relief when he'd agreed to spend time with her again. She really wanted to see him again that much? Wow…this was just…wow. "Great," she laughed timidly, beckoning him down closer with her hand. "Well…I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

The medic leaned down closer, now very curious as to what she wanted from him. "I will most definitely see you tomorrow," he replied, eyes beginning to glow a brighter blue from the high grade. "In fact…I look forward to it."

This seemed to be all the answer the human needed. He watched her visibly relax, an almost relieved expression washing across her face before she softly sighed. "Goodnight, Ratchet."

The medic froze, his body going rigid as a steel beam. Kayla had leaned upward and placed a delicate, chaste kiss on his faceplate before turning to smile at him, and escorting herself into her quarters. He slowly rose to his feet, placing a gentle hand on the spot where her lips had made contact; it was so soft, and so brief…yet now the metal had rapidly heated, his faceplates both burning intensely like he'd been sitting in the blazing sun outside the base. He couldn't recall the last time anybody had kissed him. Eons ago, at best. Yet there was something in the way she'd done it – how quick and almost _shy_ the action was in stark contrast to her normally outspoken behavior, which seemed almost _endearing_ to him. And as he began the short trip back to his quarters, he realized that, perhaps…he may have wanted _more_ of the feeling.

"_Primus help me…I am **not** sure I'm ready for this."_

* * *

**Author's Note**: Holy bajeezus...MY HANDS! They're going to fall off! O.o

I'm pretty sure that's definitely one of the longest chapters I've written so far – if you guys made it through, congratulations! Here is your celebratory cookie, which you have well earned. :3

I know there wasn't a ton of action going on or anything (but there will be shortly), but I felt like the two of them needed to really _connect_, you know what I mean? To have that moment that would solidify some kind of friendship between them in order to propel the momentum of the story forward. Then again, alcohol always helps us talk about our problems, hehe.

Anywho! My classes start back up again tomorrow, so I won't have QUITE as much free time on my hands anymore. But I'm actually taking one less class than I was last quarter, so I'll have MORE time than I have over the last several months to keep writing. :)

It seems like you guys really want me to continue on with the story, so for now…I shall! As I previously mentioned, constructive criticism is always appreciated, and thank you all SO much for all the views, likes, favorites, follows, and reviews! They truly mean the world to me. I hope you guys enjoyed this latest installment; please feel free to drop me a line in a review! Love you guys!


	6. Of Wax and Study Buddies

**Author's Note**: My hands...THEY LIVE. :D

Seriously, though. Holy crap. That was a crazy long chapter, haha. I've been working on this chapter for a couple weeks now, since school is back in session and my time is more limited these days, but I hope you guys enjoy it. I put a lot of thought into this chapter, since I view it as a major turning point for Ratchet and Kayla and wanted to do this _right_. I'm thinking the story will be around ten to fifteen chapters...no more than twenty, though. So it looks like we're right around the halfway point!

So yeah...BIG BIG BIG chapter for the story, and I hope you guys like it! As always, thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, favorited, and followed the story (and me as an author)! If you think you know someone who might like it, please share! The more people who read, the better.

Thanks again everyone, and enjoy the latest chapter!

* * *

A Medic Affair

_Of Wax and Study Buddies_

"___Primus help me…I am __******not**__ sure I'm ready for this."_  


Ratchet barely even realized what time it was before he woke up; at first, he thought his internal clock must have been wrong...there's no way he could've possibly-

"Morning sleepyhead," Bulkhead greeted him cheerfully, sticking his head through the door of the medic's quarters. "Enjoying a little extra stasis?"

"You mean to tell me that it's _actually_ eight 'o clock?" The ambulance blanched, thinking of the list of chores he had to do that day. He needed to already be hard at work! At this rate, he wouldn't be able to complete all of the tasks by the time Kayla needed him for their study session that night. "Oh, Primus..."

Upon seeing his friend's dismay, the Wrecker chuckled in delight. "Don't worry, Ratch," he reassured the clearly distressed mech. "Optimus is way ahead of you; said you could use the extra rest and already got some things sorted out." He invited himself in and helped the red and white mech to his feet, giving him a kind smile.

"What about-" Ratchet began to question, his processor still hazy from waking so suddenly from stasis.

"Kayla?" Bulkhead finished for him, laughed amusedly when the medic gave him a weary smile of affirmation, leaning his weight against the wall of his quarters as he began to clear his mind. "She's been up with the sun. First she _tortured _herself with exercise for a few hours, then I took her across town to pick up some stuff from a storage unit." He paused as though receiving an incoming communication, then smiled again. "And if I'm right, she's waiting for you outside as we speak."

"Outside?" The ambulance was clearly confused, scratching the back of his helm as he made for the silo exits. The entire situation wasn't making any sense. "Why would she be waiting outside?"

The larger mech merely smiled, clearly knowing something that the CMO did not. And relishing it too.

"You'll see."

* * *

On board the Nemesis, tensions had begun to run high. Higher than usual, that is. Megatron was still seething over the incident with Starscream, and Soundwave hadn't been able to discern any possible new leads on the current whereabouts of the human that had catalyzed the entire atrocity. The ship's crew in its entirety was walking on eggshells; even the slightest disturbance could send their leader into a downward spiral of something close to psychosis, typically ending with a single blast from his cannon in order to permanently silence the offender. One drone had been terminated for bringing Megatron his everyday energon serving cubes as opposed to those made from fine crystal, as he'd ordered. Another had been taken offline after missing a spot whilst cleaning his leader's washracks. Everyone was _afraid _to report in for duty for fear that that assignment may very well be their last.

All optics turned to Starscream. As much as Megatron may have loathed the spindly mech...he was his second in command, and did generally possess the ability to get the ornery old gladiator to listen to him. After his most recent brush with his larger superior, however, the poor jet was weary at best.

"Let him fester!" he'd barked at a drone who'd begged him to speak to their leader and end the madness. "He gets under my plates every single, solitary solar cycle and you don't see _me_ becoming so unhinged over it!"

The faceless Vehicon said nothing – probably the wisest decision he'd ever make in his life. No need to point out the irony of their mentally unbalanced second in command calling _anybody_ "unhinged". The satisfaction of making the sarcastic remark was hardly worth his very existence. Instead, he settled for a polite,"My apologies for disturbing you, Commander Starscream" and left while the opportunity still presented itself.

Still...if Starscream stood by and did nothing, Lord Megatron would soon pose a bigger threat to their safety than even the Autobots would. As much as he hated giving credit to others, the flier knew that they were right. He had to speak with his leader. An anguished groan escaping his mouth plates, and he dragged his feet to the central command area. Mentally pondering over what exactly he could possibly say to the other mech in order to potentially shed light on reason, he approached his leader timidly. Perhaps a more demure approach would be most effective.

"My lord?" he inquired gently, placing a taloned hand on the larger mech's shoulder. "May I have a word with you?"

Not even dignifying him with a glance, Megatron snarled,"Have you heard anything about that human?"

"Well, no. But-"

"Then get out of my sight!"

That went about as well as expected. But Starscream didn't turn and leave as his master ordered, merely stepping back and standing his ground. Vents cycling deeply, he tried again. "It could not be _that_ difficult to gain intelligence on her, however."

_This_ seemed to capture Megatron's attention. "_Really_, Starscream? And just how do you propose we acquire such intelligence?"

"I believe we're severely over thinking the matter," the flier went on, beginning to pace a slow circle around the larger mech. "Why not just _follow_ her to her place of work?" Megatron turned to face him again, his red optics beginning to darken in anger. But Starscream expected this, and continued,"And I _do not_ mean an ambush...Merely reconnaissance. She hasn't seen Knockout yet..." he turned another brief circle around his leader. "Just send him to follow whatever Autobot drops her off, and wait until she leaves." He laughed heartily for several moments. "She's a _human_, for Pit's sake! How difficult could it be to abduct and then dispose of her?"

"Evidently enough of a difficulty to nearly blind you in one eye," the Decepticon leader couldn't resist sneering, staring pointedly at the other mech's eye, still healing from the wound he received days before.

It took everything in Starscream's power to hold back from launching into an angered fueled tirade, but he restrained himself. "Just send Knockout and see. I know you have faith in him."

Megatron turned away and growled in discontentment. Starscream had yet another point, and by keeping him behind whilst sending out a more capable mech, perhaps their objective might actually be accomplished. Knockout was a cunning bot; surely he would be able to lure the female close enough to abduct her. Primus, his alternate mode alone was enough to make most humans draw closer in admiration. It shouldn't be a problem for him. His vents cycled deeply in a long-suffering sigh, and he eventually paged Knockout over his comm link.

"_Knockout, report to the bridge immediately."_

* * *

"You can't _possibly_ be serious." Ratchet bristled in shock, clearly taken aback by the sight before him. "There is _no way."_

"Aw, c'mon Ratchet!" pleaded Kayla, seeming almost downtrodden by his brisk response. "Pleeeeeeease?"

"No. Absolutely not."

"Why not?" the human asked in exasperation, one hand on her hip and the other gesturing wildly. "Your paint looks like crap, your rims are filthy...let me _help_ you!"

The medic's optic ridges turned down at the scrutinizing laundry list of things wrong with his appearance, clearly not pleased with the objectification. "What does my _appearance_ have to do with how efficiently I perform my duties?"

"Ratch!" scolded Bulkhead, kneeling down and picking up the clearly miffed human in his hand. "She's trying to _pamper_ you. Give you a little TLC. Cut her a break, she's being nice."

"Yeah," Kayla added, her hardened facial expression beginning to soften. "I just thought you might like to buff out some of those dents and scratches, you know?"

Ratchet was torn. On the one hand, a deep cleaning and touch up of his exterior _did_ sound nice...On the other hand, she was scantily clad, and the thought of a human wearing so little clothing so close to him made him massively uncomfortable. She was standing in Bulkhead's palm with her hands on her hips, wearing nothing but a black bikini top and a pair of well-worn denim shorts, hair slung up into its usual bun. She was quite a bit bulkier than he first realized, muscles built solidly onto her lithe frame; he could see their distinct tone, fibers rippling beneath her skin from years of rigorous exercise. Her arms were solid, leading to well toned shoulders down to her pectoral muscles, and her abdomen bore a set of six smaller muscles, the valleys between them deep and defined. The female's legs were sturdily built, bearing very little fat and tensed solid as they fought to stabilize her body on the unsteady surface of the other mech's hand, their pale skin blanketed in more brightly colored tattoos of koi fish, celtic knots, and a cherry blossom tree, all seeming to blend together in seamless incorporation with one another. Simple sneakers adorned her feet to protect their sensitive soles from the heat of the earth.

However, his silent analysis of her body did not go unnoticed, her ever-observant eyes watching him closely. "Don't look at me like that," she barked sharply, eyes narrowing to slits. "Just transform, already."

"I'll take his turn if he doesn't want it!" chimed in Smokescreen from behind them. All eyes present turned to face him, and he smiled sheepishly. "What? Who doesn't love a good wash 'n wax?"

"You stay out of this!" Ratchet and Kayla snapped in unison, both individuals wearing matching foul expressions upon their faces. They seemed to notice this, and turned to face each other incredulously, stunned silence seeming to speak far louder than any quantity of words ever would.

At long last, the medic cast her a woeful gaze and subsequently transformed, his battered alt mode waiting patiently for her down below on the ground. "Just get it over with," he grimaced, frame shuddering visibly in anticipation of the events that were to unfold.

Kayla grinned up at Bulkhead, the satisfaction of strong-arming the poor medic into a makeover immensely satisfying, before he set her down onto the ground. He and Smokescreen disappeared back into the silo, the latter appearing very reluctant to do so, mercifully leaving the medic and his companion alone to commence the dreaded torture.

"Relax," she instructed him softly, picking up an instrument resembling a suction cup and approaching a large dent in his side panel. "I'm not gonna hurt you. Promise." The human carefully adhered the tool to his surface, and explained to him,"I'm just using this to pull out some of these dings."

Ratchet felt the suctioning sensation and cringed, then felt a satisfying pop in his side. He couldn't resist letting loose a sigh of relief, and she smiled in appreciation. She circled him several more times, pulling out two more large dents, and used a smaller suction cup to remove the subtle dings that marred the smooth surface of his exterior. The pockmarks began to vanish, and the weary old medic could practically feel vitality returning to himself.

Finally, after several minutes, she made a final pass around him and nodded in satisfaction. "Well, you're dent and ding free now," she informed him pleasantly, stowing her tools and appraising him with a critical eye. "Now I'm going to go and fill in all the scratches I can find." He watched as she picked up a cup of red paint and a small brush, zeroing in on a deep gash in the paint above his right front fender. "Which could take a while. So hold still."

Kayla stirred the paint in her cup with the paintbrush and slowly dragged the tapered tip through the large scratch with surgical precision, paying careful mind to ensure that the pigment seeped into every exposed crevice possible and blending it with the surrounding area as cleanly as she could. She made several passes, using an even layer of paint each time, before finally moving on to the next one. This portion of the process was undoubtedly the most tedious, and before long, the CMO had drifted into a state of partial stasis. He could feel her moving about his alt mode and the slight sensation of the paintbrush dancing across his armor, his chassis warming pleasantly as he unintentionally basked in the rays of the sun overhead. As reluctant as he'd been to allow her to do this, he had to admit that he was very relaxed...probably more so than he'd been in a very long time. In the back of his processor, he vaguely recalled hearing her mention that she was switching over to white paint now, and grunted sleepily in response before completely succumbing to stasis.

"Mmm, mhmm, yes."

* * *

"Raaaatchet..._Raaaaaatcheeeeeet!_"

The medic grumbled and shifted on his tires, clearly still partially in stasis. Falling asleep in the warmth of the sun had made him particularly drowsy, seeming to almost dampen his senses a bit. Kayla was speaking to him, but it sounded like he was hearing her from under several feet of water. He moved to transform, and the human shrieked in anger.

"Hey _hey __**HEY!**_" she screamed fiercely, rushing toward him with arms outstretched. "_Do not_ transform – you'll put scratches in the paint!"

Now that the bewildered ambulance was thoroughly startled, he was wide awake, spark rate racing out of control. "And _what_, exactly, do you propose I do?" The words seemed forced, vents heaving in a desperate attempt to cool his systems down.

"Sit still while I run the UV light over you," she instructed sharply, casting him a wary glance before circling around and running the purple light over him carefully. "This should help accelerate the drying of the paint. It's pretty hot outside, and I only used thin layers, so this should just ensure that everything is completely dry before we move on."

"Move on to what, exactly?" Ratchet asked cautiously. Humans always tended to have something up their sleeves, and with this one being crazier than a bag of Insecticons, it went without saying that he was naturally suspicious of her actions.

"You're all painted and sealed..." Kayla began as she made her way around his backside and up his right. "Now it's time for a deep cleaning and detailing. Wash, polish, wax."

"I don't _need_ all that!" the medic nearly wailed in dismay. All of this attention to exterior was beginning to make him highly uncomfortable.

It was at this point that Kayla stopped dead in front of him, hand holding the UV light on her hip with a very irritated expression wiped across her face. "Does this look like a face that gives a fuck what you _want?_" she practically sneered while motioning to her face. "I _never_ leave a job half finished. So I suggest you remain still, and let me get on with it. The sooner I finish, the sooner you can go back inside."

"Can I _please_ just take his turn?" came an exasperated voice from behind the two of them. Smokescreen had reappeared, back from a scouting mission with Optimus, who was trailing the young mech at an almost leisurely pace. "Ratchet _clearly_ isn't accustomed to this kind of treatment, and my paint job is in _desperate _need of a good wax."

Ratchet was going to say something witty. He was going to come up with a nasty retort. But before he could say _anything_, Kayla had already beat him to the punch. "Will you just _piss off_?" she snarled in response, clearly aggravated between the constant interruptions and the begrudging nature of her subject. "If anybody's next, it's Optimus. He's the one who let me stay here, so I feel like I owe it to him." Her facial expression then changed, hardening as she gave the young bot a withering glare. "What have _you_ done to earn such treatment?"

But before this could turn into a full debate, the aforementioned mech made his way over to the trio, almost appearing amused. "Such treatment for me? That _does_ sound relaxing..." He glanced over at Ratchet, whose retouched paint was now gleaming in the sunlight. "You are looking well, Ratchet."

Seeing that the two mechs were speaking, Kayla took this opportunity to engage Smokescreen away from the old friends, affording them momentary privacy. The medic realized this, and was mentally grateful for the interception. "I _feel_ different, but I'm afraid I cannot see my external appearance. Tell me honestly, Optimus..." Ratchet cringed, the action shifting him on his shock absorbers. "How do I look?"

The Prime chuckled, something he hadn't done since back before the war, and the CMO began to panic. ; he explained,"Do not misinterpret my laughter, old friend. You look a few centuries younger, and the sight of you appearing so invigorated reminds me of old times..."

"When life was simpler," finished Ratchet solemnly, thinking of how wonderful life used to be back on Cybertron before the war engulfed their planet. "So...I don't look ridiculous?"

"Not in the least," Optimus reassured him, a warm smile gracing his face as he took in his friend's appearance. "You look like a mech with a spring in his step. Believe me when I say that you will be pleased with what you see."

"_Optimus would never lie to me," _the medic pondered to himself as he watched Smokescreen and Kayla approach the two of them. _"Perhaps I shall allow her to continue with this process."_

"So? We doing this?!" Kayla shouted from across the way, interrupting his thoughts and stirring him from his reverie.

Ratchet heaved a long-suffering sigh, and glanced at Optimus, who nodded to answer him. "Just...get it over with," he cringed again, trying to ignore the gleeful smile that had spread across the human's face.

"Yes! Thanks Ratchet! You won't regret it..."

For some reason he found this debatable, but allowed his processor to clear as he felt cold water begin to wash over his chassis, a welcome relief from the scorching heat of the Nevada sun.

"_Yes, yes...not a bad idea at all."_

* * *

"Where _are_ they?" Arcee questioned Optimus, after searching the base for Ratchet to ask him about a piece of loose plating. "They've been gone for hours."

"Last I saw, she was washing his alt mode," put in Smokescreen, who had meandered out into the common area to socialize. "Looked nice and refreshing."

"Be patient, Arcee," Optimus reminded her evenly. "Kayla explained that this process would be lengthy, and the work is very detail oriented. I am certain it will not be long until they return."

It was at this particular moment, as though his words had summoned it, that the staff elevator typically used by Fowler and the children –when arriving via their private methods of transportation– arrived in the common area, its doors whooshing open. The Autobots were quite surprised to see the aforementioned human inside, without a trace of their medic in sight.

"You ditch the doc bot?"Wheeljack inquired with a smile, offering his hand for a lift.

She stepped on without a word, explaining as the wrecker raised her up,"Hardly." Kayla chuckled at the thought, then continued,"I merely returned unattended so I could re-introduce you to your medic." The Autobots all turned to face her, confused. "May I present to you, your new and improved Ratchet!"

They heard his familiar sirens coming down the entrance tunnel, lights seeming to almost flash brighter than usual. But nobody would quite be prepared for what they saw. As Ratchet came around the bend and stopped in the middle of the common area, everybody present uttered a surprised gasp. The ambulance –once dull and slightly beaten up– seemed to gleam in the harsh lights of the silo, his freshly polished and waxed chassis reflecting the lights like a mirror. The rims of his tires sparkled, the hours of manual labor clearly present in their sheen. His myriad of dents and dings had been smoothed, and his scratches completely buffed away; his paint job had been touched up – the lines where red and white met were crisper, the jagged pattern of his characteristic EKG lines sharper, nearly razor fine. They noticed a very thin, discreet new black line down each of his sides with subtle shifts, giving the illusion of a slimmer, more shaped body. The difference became even more apparent when he transformed. All of his lights had been thoroughly scrubbed, making them appear to be brighter, and the grey armor between his red and white chassis plates was shiny, cleaner. The medic's facial markings had all been retouched, and both his optics and dental plates had been polished. Combined with the new addition of the thin black line, they were gazing upon a mech who seemed to have turned back the clock, his youth and vitality restored, at least visually.

At last, Arcee broke the stunned silence. "Ratchet..." She fumbled for more words as she took in his new appearance. "You look-"

"You look _great!_" Bulkhead interjected, approaching the medic and giving him a slap on the back. "I mean...you seriously do. What'd she do? Shave a couple centuries off the top?"

"Apparently so," Ratchet agreed with a smile, admiring his reflection in one of the computer monitors. "By the Allspark..." he smiled at himself and turned, checking his side view before facing forward again. "Who is _this_ young mech?"

"It's you," Kayla informed him, making the short leap from Wheeljack's hand to Ratchet's shoulder. "The same mech as before...with just a bit of TLC and some elbow grease."

"TLC?" asked Arcee, giving the human a confused glance.

She laughed, and gently patted the side of the medic's helm. "Tender loving care. Just means I took care of him, put some heart into it."

"Your dedication certainly yielded good results," Optimus complimented her, smiling at the two of them before directing his attention to his CMO. "How do you feel, Ratchet?"

"How do I feel?" the medic echoed the question as he turned to face his leader. "I feel excellent," he informed him with a grin. Once again, Prime was reminded of the young mech he met back on Cybertron, before the war; it was true...the effect of the human's labor was more noticeable than ever when Ratchet smiled.

"I hate to interrupt," Kayla said with a small smile as she poked the side of Ratchet's head. "But I'm in dire need of a shower." She faced the medic and continued,"Once I'm showered and dressed, would you be ready to help me study?"

"Certainly," Ratchet agreed, returning her smile and gently placing her down on the ground. "I'll be by shortly."

"Just make yourself comfortable," she instructed him, waving over her shoulder as she disappeared down the corridor to her quarters.

Wheeljack wasted no time. No sooner was she beyond earshot that he turned to Ratchet and snickered,"Helping her '_study_', eh doc?" emphasizing the word with air quotations before shooting him a sly wink. "Didn't know you had it in you!"

"Wha-" the ambulance glared at him, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "_What_ is that supposed to mean?"

"Well..." the Wrecker hedged, nudging him with his elbow. "You've got that hologram projector I gave you...maybe project yourself down there and..."

_Now_ he understood. And he wasn't amused. "What kind of mech do you think I _am?_" Ratchet practically squawked. "For your information, Kayla has a very important exam tomorrow night, and asked for my assistance in preparing!"

"Sure doc...you go ahead and think that." Wheeljack smirked at him and turned to leave.

"For the last time, _do not _call me 'doc'!" And with that, the red and white mech turned, stalking off down the hallway toward the human's quarters.

"Disgusting," he muttered to himself, the other mech's words still fresh in his mind. "Deplorable..."

Though the doorways and rooms had been modified to accommodate the massive size of the Autobots, he still felt out of place amid all the human sized furnishings. A perfect opportunity to test his hologram projector. From the other room, he could hear the sound of water running in the shower. Kayla was still otherwise occupied...

"Maybe just for a moment," Ratchet mused aloud. "I'll be sure to have it off by the time she comes in."

He closed his eyes and activated the device, and was immediately overcome by a strange sensation. It was as if he'd been yanked from one place, and suddenly set down in another. A transference of consciousness. It lasted for only an instant, the feeling of solid ground beneath his feet ascertaining this. At last, he summoned enough courage to open his eyes, and was amazed: everything around him was _his_ size now. The berth, the couches, the desk and shelves...Ratchet turned back around toward his body, which had transformed into his alt mode in the process and sat quietly in the corner. Tentatively, he approached it, laying a hand on the driver's side door handle before opening it. He climbed inside and sat down.

"_So...this is what it feels like."_ he thought as he realized just how titanic he and the other Autobots must seem to the other humans. _"It's no wonder they were so fascinated with our size."_

Ratchet sat in his alt mode for several moments, the reality of the entire situation beginning to sink in, before he finally decided to venture out and explore his surroundings. The room was very large, once used as a barracks for military personnel while the silo was still under human operation. She'd done an efficient job of clearing it out, keeping only one of the original bunk beds for her own use. The room itself displayed signs of being decrepit: peeling paint, cracked walls, and a lingering musty smell that indicated there'd been a leak at one point. Noting the bucket in the far corner, he ascertained that she'd found it, and alerted Fowler for repairs. The vast majority of the room lay empty, with the exception of a shabby desk bearing her laptop, small dining table and two beaten chairs, and a large bookcase, full to bursting with books. She'd hung a Jasper University pennant over her desk, and a shadowbox containing several military medals beside her bed, but the walls were otherwise unadorned. It saddened him, almost, to see her reduced to such dank, abysmal conditions, but he knew that this was better than being left to fend for herself.

Being an intellectually inclined individual, the first place he found himself drawn to was her bookshelf. He carefully thumbed through the titles, and realized that they were mostly medical textbooks and anatomical reference books. As he delved further, however, her literary taste slowly began to take form: volume upon volume of philosophical works by the great minds of the past. Plato, Socrates, da Vinci, Aristotle...Human literary classics, War and Peace, The Count of Monte Cristo, Dracula, A Tale of Two Cities, Gone with the Wind, Pride and Prejudice...and at last, he reached a rather large collection of elaborately bound leather books of various colors. Curious, he gingerly selected one, heavier than he'd initially expected, and flipped open the cover.

It was a photo album. He carefully scrutinized the first picture: the man and woman in it looked strangely familiar, and were holding a baby, both beaming proudly for the camera. Puzzled, he turned the page; pictures of the baby were spread from page to page, although this time, it looked a bit older. The baby was smiling and laughing, accompanied by the same familiar man and woman as before, whom he assumed were the baby's parents. However, as Ratchet began to flip through the book and the child began to age in front of his eyes, he came to a realization.

"_This is Kayla and her family..."_

"I love that picture," came a voice from behind him. "This was where we used to barbecue every summer at the lake."

Ratchet was so startled that he nearly dropped the book, whirling around only to come face to face with Kayla herself. But was then overwhelmed completely by a series of other sensations; the hologram that Wheeljack had given him must have been more human-accurate than he first believed, because upon taking in his companion _now_...he noticed things about her that would have completely escaped him before. He realized how petite she was, even by human standards, how her freshly scrubbed skin seemed to almost _glow_ in the dimmer lighting of her quarters. The way her olive drab t-shirt gave her eyes the optical illusion of appearing a deep green.

His lack of response made her smile, and once again, he was nearly taken aback. Her teeth were so even and white, framed by full lips; his eyes made their way further up her face, and realized her smile seemed to reach her eyes – pleasant lines formed at their corners, and though she was clearly nervous, they seemed to sparkle. It was a real, genuine smile, one whose warmth almost washed upon him.

"_By the Allspark..." _his mind reeled. He could feel his "heart" begin to pound, the palms of his hands beginning to prespire. _"Why in the name of Primus do I feel like this?" _He could hear the sound of "blood" rushing in his ears as the strange feeling intensified. _"Slag...this holoform is realistic."_ Finally, the medic came to his senses and cleared his throat, sensing that the silence had become quite pronounced.

But she seemed to understand. Taking the initiative, she leaned over his arm and pointed to another picture. "This is my mom teaching me how to play guitar," Kayla explained with a wistful smile. "She was both a guitar teacher and a vocal coach, so I guess you could say any musical inclination I have originated in the time that I spent with her." She then pointed to another picture. "Here's my very first award that I received for academic achievement, in third grade." The human grinned at him and cocked and eyebrow, admitting smugly,"The first of _many."_

Ratchet would allow this, however. "Your parents would be very proud to see how far you've come," he informed her softly, finding himself placing his free hand on her shoulder.

He was surprised when she did not divert away from this, sighing instead. "I like to think that..." Without thinking, she flipped through a few more pages, landing upon a photograph of her family once again, this time in her adolescent years. "Still...I wish they could have been here to see it." Kayla glanced up at him, eyes soft and almost misty. "This was taken about a month before the accident."

The medic squeezed her shoulder and pulled her closer, but said nothing. What was there to say? Again, she understood, and flipped the page. A photograph of the accident scene accompanied a slowly yellowing newspaper article, which he assumed was about the tragedy. On the opposite page were several photographs of Kayla in the hospital, alone. Her face and neck had been badly bruised, and she was sleeping peacefully in her hospital bed. Pictures of her resulting surgery followed, a thin incision running across her lower abdomen, neatly stitched. Another page turned showed the funeral proceedings; the burials took place in a beautiful, green cemetery shrouded by large oak trees. Kayla, not even Jack's age, was wearing a black dress, hat, and veil, one arm wrapped around her lower abdomen and another holding a handkerchief to her nose and mouth as she looked upon the two adjacent caskets. A second photograph showed her kneeling between the two headstones, head lowered and one hand on each grave marker.

It was a very solemn reminder to him as to how fragile human life really was. How it could all end in an instant, at any time. And with this realization came a new air of protection, almost a feeling of responsibility for her safety.

"_I cannot allow anything to befall her,"_ he thought urgently to himself. _"I will not."_

As time passed, they'd flipped through her high school graduation, and her graduation from basic training in the Marine Corps.

"Look how young I was," Kayla laughed as she pointed to herself with an arm slung around a friend. "I look like a kid playing solider."

"You really _do_," Ratchet chuckled, admiring the picture for a moment before taking control and flipping a few pages ahead. "Where is this?"

"This was my first combat deployment, to Afghanistan," the human explained. "We were in Kabul, which at the time, was a big hotspot for combat activity." She flipped another page, and pointed to several pictures of her in a military hospital, both legs in casts and a big smile on her face. "Our vehicle hit an IED-" she noticed his confused face, and elaborated, "improvised explosive device, and both my legs sustained a compound fracture."

Ratchet grimaced, but observed,"But you're smiling."

"I was so doped up on pain medication..." she explained with a grin. "Wasn't in any pain when these were taken. Actually pretty loopy, to tell you the truth."

Both began to laugh, and Ratchet added,"The wonder of pain medication," with a knowing smile, closing the hefty album and handing it back to Kayla. "Thank you for sharing this with me."

"Sure," she replied as she accepted the book, carefully filing it away in its proper place. "Maybe when I don't have an exam to study for, we can crack open another one."

"I would like that."

For a moment, the pair of them stood stock still, neither one speaking. It was much like the silences they shared as Autobot and human: relaxed, contented...no words were needed, merely the company of the other. Ratchet couldn't help but feel that something should have happened then, but the thought was otherwise erased from his mind when Kayla grabbed him by the wrist and tugged him over to her berth. She already had a rather large collection of materials spread across the scratchy wool blanket, the most prominent being a big, fat test preparation book with the title "USMLE" stamped across the top of the cover in bold lettering.

"USMLE?" he read as he situated himself upon her berth. He watched as she sat and crossed her legs, hefting the book up into her arms and pointing to the lettering.

"United States Medical Licensing Examination," she explained with a smile. "It's _finally _here. Fuck...I seriously thought this day would _never_ come."

"It's all about perseverance," Ratchet beamed at her. "Be it Earth or Cybertronian...I am certain almost all medical academies feel the same way while one is traversing their way through them."

Kayla laughed lightly, and picked up a rather large notebook. Battered and dog-eared from great use, she'd clearly had it for quite some time. Flipping to the back, she selected one of the few blank pages remaining, and turned to a section of the book indicating a practice test. "I'm going to take the practice test, and you'll grade it," she informed him, indicating the portion of the book which had been marked further in the back. "The answer key is right here."

"You know, we _did_ have such a thing on Cybertron," the medic grumbled in slight irritation. "I am _more_ than capable of grading a practice test."

His companion blushed quite severely in embarrassment, and set down her book. "I apologize...I didn't mean to insinuate anything."

"Don't you have a practice test to take?" he chastised her with a small smile.

Kayla chuckled and looked down, pencil beginning to scratch away on her paper before she was struck with a thought. "This may take a bit," she said to him in a concerned tone. "Feel free to help yourself to anything around here to help pass the time."

He nodded in response, then watched as her head ducked, and her hand began to furiously scribble in her notebook. Writing was a fascinating spectacle for him: Cybertronians never had any practical use for handwriting –as most notes, data, and important files were stored on data pads, which were manipulated with one's fingertips–, and the process required surprising dexterity on the part of the writer. As fast as her hand moved, her writing was impeccable, flowing smoothly from one word to another without much discrepancy. There was something about the facial expression she took whilst in deep concentration...the furrowed brow, terse lips, and scrunched nose that he found somewhat endearing. He couldn't explain it, but seeing her face in that state always seemed to make him smile a bit. Her lip-chewing had almost progressed to gnawing, he observed, the light pink skin of her lips turning a dark red from the irritation.

It felt like hardly any time at all had passed as she flipped pages and continued her onslaught of writing, steadily consuming the page down to the very last line before dropping her pencil to the berth and collapsing backwards onto her berth with a relieved cry. "Whew..." she breathed a sigh of relief as she sat up, handing him the aforementioned notebook, and flipping to the answer key in her study guide for him. "Well, teacher? How'd I do?"

Ratchet took the pen she offered him, finding the human holoform seemed to know how to hold the writing implement, and began comparing her answers to the ones listed in the book. He checked each question carefully, taking great pains to ensure that her answers matched its as closely as possible. There were several questions that she'd worded differently, but held essentially the same meaning; he chose to leave those as correct, as not every physician worded everything exactly alike, so long as the basic meaning was still conveyed. All her answers were correct...and she'd completed it so quickly, too. Without warning, the medic had an epiphany.

Glancing from the test to Kayla, Ratchet stated bluntly,"You didn't need my help studying." It was nothing less than an accusation.

He knew he was right when she smiled sheepishly at him from across the bed, shrugging innocently and trying not to laugh. "Well, not exactly..." she hedged carefully, never breaking eye contact with him. "I kind of just wanted to spend time with you."

The medic was expecting a laugh and a joke...not such an honest, candid answer. He could feel his pulse begin to race again, his hands dampening from the sudden change of atmosphere. "You could have just told me, you know", he managed to get out quite stoically, his mind trying desperately to stay focused on the situation at hand.

The human sighed again, glancing up at him almost sorrowfully. "I know. I'm sorry, Ratchet," she apologized again, reaching up and pulling the hair tie from her messy bun. A river of long, deep red hair flowed down to the middle of her back, shorter layers bouncing up in loose, messy curls. "I guess I thought that you didn't like me very much, and wouldn't agree to hang out unless there was some sort of constructive purpose behind it."

Primus, Ratchet thought she was appealing to the eye before; his senses nearly overloaded with stimuli once she took her hair down. The gentle motion of her hair falling had sent a whiff of her fragrance wafting in his direction, and he felt himself falter for the first time all night. Even her scent was intoxicating to his unwitting human sensory organs. Collecting himself, Ratchet reached out to the female, and gingerly placed his hand on her arm. "Why would you think that of me?"

Human moods were quick to change. Kayla then smirked at him, the devious smile sending chills up his spine before she confessed not-so-apologetically,"Because I derive great entertainment from being a thorn in your side."

"It's been a long while since anybody has been able to make me bristle quite like you have," he admitted at last with a soft chuckle, eyes meeting hers nervously. "Consider it a compliment...just don't tell anybody I said so."

"I feel honored," came her slightly sarcastic response, accompanied by a sly wink before she began to clean up her study materials and organize them into a relatively neat pile.

It was odd. Ratchet found that the more time he spent in his holoform, the more natural these human interactions became to him. And to be completely truthful, they weren't all that different than those exhibited by Cybertronians. The body language was essentially the same, minus the females playing with their hair, but nevertheless, the medic began to feel himself relaxing into his new form. Conversation seemed more fluid now, and he began to adjust well to his diminished size. However...there was a part of his mind that slightly changed. He'd slowly been picking up on the nuances of inter-human interaction, and was beginning to exhibit the same behaviors without quite realizing it entirely.

This became entirely clear as he felt himself slowly scoot across the bed toward his companion; she also seemed to realize this, and sat up to face him. An errant lock of hair had fallen into her face, and with only a half-thought, Ratchet found himself leaning forward and carefully brushing it out of the way. Yet he didn't immediately pull away afterward; he found himself leaning closer still, cocking his head to one side.

"You should really wear your hair like this more often," he informed her softly, looking down into her eyes. "It's quite appealing."

This time, he wasn't met with sarcasm or a smirk. Her eyes had widened at the sudden switch in topic and its nature, her body beginning to respond to his being in such close proximity. "I'll bear that in mind," she murmured quietly, her own hand reaching up and gently touching the side of Ratchet's face.

Warnings began to flash in Ratchet's head. This interaction was quickly approaching a new level entirely...one he wasn't quite certain he was prepared for. She had moved closer now...they were within inches of each other. But he neither turned away nor pulled back. He could see the fine lines in her face, and make out a distinct scar on her temple. Subconsciously, he inched closer still. He could feel her shaky breath on his face as he gently stroked her velvety cheek with his thumb; they were tortuously near. The medic could see a nearly imperceptible ring of brown in the center of her blue green eyes, and was close enough to count every one of her eyelashes.

Though it had been eons since he'd last had any form of intimate contact with a femme, his body –and new human holoform– hadn't forgotten a thing. Very slowly, Kayla pulled his face in toward hers, both closing their eyes and tilting their heads opposite the other simultaneously before their lips met in a very soft, tender kiss. The contact lasted only a brief second before she pulled back a bit, her eyes meeting his with a look of vulnerable uncertainty clearly written in them. Ratchet wasn't certain if it was the holoform that influenced him, or rather it was his own repressed desire, but regardless of what drove him, it pushed him to act. His breathing a bit heavy, Ratchet pulled her toward him again, and their lips met for a second time.

"_By the Allspark...you've gone mad,"_ his rationale screamed at him as his heart began to pound, the close contact flooding him with familiar sensations.

This time, neither pulled away. He felt Kayla slowly entwine her arms around him, pulling him deeper into the kiss; she leaned up into him, her tongue gently teasing his lower lip to provoke a response. The medic tangled a hand within her thick hair and pulled her closer, his own tongue darting out to meet hers before she could retract it back into her mouth. She gently nipped at his bottom lip, and was in the process of pulling Ratchet down on top of her when a deep, rich chuckle interrupted them from the doorway.

"Woah..." Bulkhead deadpanned as his optics took in the scene before him. To say he was stunned was the understatement of the century. Seeing who had to be the most prudish mech on base entangled with a human easily a generation his junior was quite a shock, to say the very least."Getting frisky with the new girl in your holoform? Didn't know you had it in you!"

Without warning, Ratchet retracted his holoform, transformed, and rose to his typical, towering height before striding over to the Wrecker. Bulkhead grimaced – the medic looked positively _murderous_. "You...saw..._nothing_," the red and white mech snarled, hands practically shaking from the amount of pent up anger stored within him. "Do you hear me, Bulkhead? _Nothing._"

Never one to argue with the mech that would end up putting him back together after a Decepticon skirmish, he withered under Ratchet's glare and recoiled. "What did I see?"

"Exactly."

Without even sparing a second glance, the Wrecker took off, clearly in a hurry to be as far away from the scene as possible. Satisfied, Ratchet turned around to face Kayla; her hair had been rumpled, sticking up in the back where his hand had been, her face bearing the most amused expression he'd ever seen.

"And just _what_ do you find so amusing?"

"Come down here and I'll tell you," she replied with a coy smile, beckoning him closer with her curled finger. Ratchet sighed, but to the surprise of the human, olbiged. He transformed once more, projecting his holoform in front of her. A look of utmost impatience was plastered upon his face, and she grinned before leaning up to murmur in his ear,"You."

"Me?" the medic sounded shocked, clearly not prepared for the answer he received. "What did _I_ do?"

"Just the way you told Bulkhead off," she explained with a shrug as she ran her hands up his arms. "I didn't know you were so _aggressive-_"

Ratchet knew that intonation. Before she could continue any further, he grabbed her wrists and removed her hands from his arms, holding them down at her sides. "Are you _completely_ insane?"

Then she realized what he thought she was implying. "Woah, woah, woah!" Kayla seemed shocked, almost offended by the manner in which he took her inflection. "Look, Ratchet, you're smart and obviously good looking," she took a moment to gesture to his holoform. "But we don't even _know_ each other! Why, in the name of all things good and holy, do you think _that's _what I was implying?"

Now it was the medic's turn to blush in embarrassment. _"Way to make yourself look like an aft for assuming,"_he mentally berated himself as she crossed her arms. "I'm sorry...I-I seemed to have misunderstood that," he admitted, mortification clearly permeating through his words.

The female immediately delighted in his humiliation, taking this moment to waggle her eyebrows and shoot him a rather unsettling leer. "Maybe if you want to get to know me better first..." she hinted as she nudged him with her elbow.

If he were in his Autobot body, his faceplates would be just about be steaming by now. "_Sweet Primus. I don't think it's physically possible for me to be any more humiliated than I am right now..."_

But rather than allow his shame to be further exposed, he uttered a simple,"Pf," before rolling his eyes and beginning to walk away.

"Seriously," Kayla stopped him, laying a hand on his shoulder before he could distance himself any further. "If you _would_ like to hang out again...it'd be fun. No expectations or anything." As much as Ratchet wanted to leave, he felt compelled to stay and at least hear what the human had to say. Sighing wearily, he turned around to face her. She continued,"The medical program at my school is having a benefit night at a club in Las Vegas next Saturday night...would you want to go with me?"

"I don't know..." he hedged uneasily, taking a moment to appraise her. "I'm still a bit leery of testing this holoform out among the general population."

"We'll get some practice in," she told him, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Give it a try in the kiddy pool before we throw you in the shark tank. If you're still not comfortable, I understand if you don't want to go."

Once again, Ratchet was torn. He _did_ want to spend a bit more time with Kayla, but the prospect of masquerading as a human for a night was highly daunting. There was so much he'd have to learn; what if he made a fool of himself? Then he remembered feeling similarly back on Cybertron as a youth, the fear of socializing preventing him from attending what would have been some of the more memorable events in his life. He was already on a strange planet living among an alien species under an ingenious disguise...why not go out and explore his new surroundings as one of the natives? It was a once in a lifetime opportunity. One he wasn't about to pass up.

"I'll do it" he declared suddenly, startling the human as he did so. "I'll go."

The ear-to-ear smile that smattered her face was priceless, elation seeming to radiate from her very being at his enthusiastic response. "Oh, Ratchet! That's so wonderful!"she exclaimed in exhilaration. She was unable to contain herself and gave him a nearly suffocating hug before releasing him. "Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou! "Without warning, she lunged forward, planted a firm kiss on his lips, and bolted out into the common area to share her excitement with the others, her giggling slowly fading off down the hall as her feet pounded the pavement.

Ratchet stood completely still, dumbfounded by the entire interaction. It was as though he'd lit the fuse to an extremely potent explosive and it blew up instantly in his face. All this from just one response to a request? Perhaps she really _was_ as crazy as he suspected...

"_Slag...what have I entangled myself in this time?" _He heaved a heavy-gusted sigh, retracted his holoform, and made his way after her. _"Never would have guessed such a small being could get me into so many shenanigans."_

* * *

**Author's Note: **And there you have it, my dear readers! This was another mammoth chapter, but this time, my hands don't feel like they're about to drop off; I spread this chapter out over a couple of weeks, so it was pretty manageable. :)

It took several rewrites, but in the end I'm happy with how things turned out. As just kind of a side note, while I was writing the portions where Ratchet and Kayla met in her quarters, were looking through the photo album, and the moments leading up to the kiss, I was listening to a version of "Just the Way You Are" by The Piano Guys. It's really a great piece, and sets the mood for the scene wonderfully, if you're interested. Not a whole lot more to say, really! Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, favorited, and subscribed – I appreciate it very much! As always, feel free to make suggestions in regards to things you'd like to see in the future. Hopefully you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I'll see you back for the next installation! Drop me a line in a review, and I'll catch you later!


	7. Of Daring Escapes and Unfortunate Events

**Author's Note**: Hi everyone! First off, I want to thank all of you for leaving such lovely reviews! It really means a lot, and really inspires me to keep writing. I'm sorry it's been so long since I've last updated - a lot of stuff has come up recently (ranging from a second job, car trouble, issues scheduling classes at my university, and a dear friend returning from a deployment from Afghanistan), and it's been difficult for me to find the time to write lately. But now that all the dust has settled and I'm about to go on summer break, I've been able to sit down and bang this next chapter out for you. :) Hopefully it won't take this long again in the future. Anywho, enjoy the latest installment, and drop me a line in a review to tell me what you think!

* * *

A Medic Affair

_Of Daring Escapes and Unfortunate Events_

"Nothing? _Nothing?_" The Decepticon leader's face took on a wild-eyed expression, mouthplates twisting in rage. "What do you _mean_ you've learned _NOTHING?_"

Megatron had ordered the vehicons out in droves on errands of reconnaissance after the incident with Starscream's eye in regards to his human target. They had always managed to catch her heading southbound on the interstate, followed her to Jasper University where she attended classes, to the hospital for her internship shifts, and to a local bar where she worked, but always wound up being called away prematurely to assist with an Autobot conflict - they never managed to follow her back to their base. The mechs had tried reasoning with their leader, as this was information vital to their cause, but whatever skirmish was occurring at the moment always seemed to take priority. Thus, after a week of intense surveillance and much to the chagrin of their leader, they had collectively learned no more than her schedule.

"W-we've learned at what time she leaves, and-" a timid Vehicon piped up, but was cut off when Megatron roughly seized him about the throat and tossed him across the room.

His sights then turned to Knockout, who was to oversee these missions; the mech blanched, and began to skitter backwards away from him. "And where were you when all this was taking place?" the larger mech snarled, roughly grabbing the sports car and forcing him to face him. "What do you have to report, _Knockout?_"

Knockout laughed nervously and gulped. "Well, you see..." he explained slowly, withering under his leader's malevolent gaze. "I figured with so many bodies on the ground, my presence wasn't exactly needed-"

This was all the answer that Megatron needed, and the straw that broke the camel's back. He slammed the other mech into the wall ferociously and screamed, the blood curdling sound drowning out Knockout's anguished cries of a ruined paintjob. The incompetence of those under his command was almost maddening. She was _one_ human; how difficult could it be to _follow_ her? He was within inches of terminating his lieutenant when yet another Vehicon burst into the room, putting a stop to the proceedings. Megatron looked over, his eyes murderous. "This had _better_ be good."

Out of breath, the Vehicon looked up and saluted his leader. "Lord Megatron, Soundwave just intercepted a cellular transmission that we believe is of dire importance."

At the mention of his name, Soundwave soon appeared behind the mech without Megatron's prompting. He quietly padded over toward the small group, coming to a halt in front of his leader.

"Soundwave?" questioned Megatron slowly, optic ridge arced in curiosity.

The screen on his faceplate switched, displaying the sound frequencies of the call. Then a female voice began to emanate from his vocalizer. "Oh jeez...I'm sorry Lauren," the anonymous speaker began, a technologic undertone infused into her voice by his vocal processors. "You know I'd cover for you, but I already made plans with Ratch-_I mean_, Rad."

"Going on a date?" the other female speaker asked, clearly amused.

"Not exactly," the first speaker laughed. "He's accompanying me to the university medical department's gala. Hardly a dreamy occasion."

"Well, it could still be fun," the second speaker put in. "I mean, don't they always hold it right next door to a nightclub?"

"This much is true," the first speaker replied optimistically, her tone indicating a change of heart. "Maybe we could sneak out and have some fun."

"You should," the second speaker encouraged. "Anyway, I gotta go. Still need to find someone to take this shift for me, ya know?"

"Yeah, I hear ya," the first speaker responded, her voice filled with empathy. "Good luck! I hope you can find someone."

"Thanks! I'll see you later."

"Later."

The call ended, and Soundwave gestured up to the giant monitors, where he'd summoned a human internet browser. Coming closer, Megatron realized what he was seeing. All the information for the gala that the human had mentioned was present, and the event was quickly approaching. As quickly as his mood had changed, he began to formulate a plan. Megatron turned around and set his sights upon Knockout once again, who was attempting to slink off and retrieve his rotary buffer while his leader was otherwise distracted.

"_Not_ so fast!" the Decepticon leader barked, his commanding voice echoing off the walls of the Nemesis. Knockout froze in his tracks and his head snapped back in his leader's direction, eyes wide and slightly terrified. Megatron slowly closed the distance between them, staring intensely at his lieutenant. "You've evaded duty for long enough, Knockout. Now...I require nothing but complete cooperation from you."

Both literally and figuratively backed into a corner, the red mech bowed his head in humility and responded,"Yes, Lord Megatron. I will serve you well."

Megatron didn't dignify his words with a response, instead gesturing to the large screens with a clawed hand. "You will attend this event, and abduct the human." His gaze turned sinister, and the sports car cringed. "It would behoove you to not return without her...so I suggest you make yourself inconspicuous for once," he grated, casting a disdainful glance over the other's flashy paint job. "We are at _war_, Knockout. Not a fashion show back on Cybertron."

Knockout visibly bristled at this remark, clearly offended by the implication of his leader's words. "Just because we're at war doesn't mean I have to look hideous," he retorted almost nastily, giving his leader a quick once over. "But then again, success isn't always measured in appearance. You're living proof of _that_, my Lord..."

"_Enough, Knockout!_" Megatron shouted, slamming his fist into an adjacent desk and crushing it almost in half. "I don't care _how_ you do it..." The other mech shivered at the low tone his voice had taken, clearly meaning business. No amount of sarcastic banter would allow him to worm his way out of this one. "But if you have the ball bearings to return without her, you will pay. And you will pay _dearly_." Megatron roughly grabbed his face, forcing him to look into his eyes, and added with a hoarse whisper, "Your paint job will be the _least_ of your concerns."

"Understood, Lord Megatron."

As Knockout turned to leave, he shuddered in foreboding. That went about as well as he expected.

_"Scrap...I'd better find this little worm..."_

* * *

"I told you so."

Ratchet was hunched over his work station, head bent low and observing a beaker bubbling with his latest test batch of synthetic energon. Kayla had borrowed Bulkhead for the day to assist her in picking up the mass quantities of sodium hydroxide she'd ordered via her university, and seemed to be gone for an eternity. After waiting so long for a useable formula, the final few hours until her return with his bounty were nothing short of agonizing. Almost immediately after the pair arrived and the cargo had been unloaded, the eager medic tore into a package like a child on Christmas morning; he carefully measured an amount of the substance, documented the number, and slowly mixed it into the solution. As the mixture began to react to the heat under the beaker, Ratchet lifted the human in order to watch the proceedings she'd orchestrated.

"I haven't tested the PH balance yet," the mech countered, her smugness rubbing his plating the wrong way. "We don't know if your theory is our solution." He shot her an irritated glance, continuing,"So I suggest you keep your pride minimal until you know it worked."

Kayla scaled his arm, perching carefully on his shoulder before kicking him playfully on the side of the head. "I wouldn't be prideful if I didn't know if it was going to work," she informed him seriously before flashing an almost blinding smile at him. "And when it does, I get to say it."

Ratchet grunted, turning his attention back to the beaker. The mixture appeared ready for testing, and he prepared the PH chemicals. "I suppose we'll find out," he murmured quietly, squeezing the bulb of the dropper gently. "If you were right, the mixture should slowly turn a dark blue." Both sets of eyes watched the drops land in the beaker, and the medic gently swirled the container. "Please work..._please work..._"

Both Autobot and human waited on baited breath, eyes wide and bodies tense in suspense. At first, the mixture did nothing. Their pulses raced. All this work couldn't possibly be for naught...

_"Oh no..." the human thought, her heart beginning to sink. "This was really important to these guys. It has to work, it just has to..."_

"Come on..." the pair seemed to breathe in unison. The air was thick enough to cut with an energon blade.

At last, the solution began to change. Very slowly, the once neon-green mixture began to turn a bright blue, the new color seeming to spider its way through the beaker with spindly fingers. Both held their breaths; it was heading in the right direction. The wait was nearly torture. Finally, the brightness of the fluid seemed to dim, finally darkening into an almost inky blue. Human and Autobot stood deathly still, heart and spark nearly shuddering to a halt as they waited. Finally, the entire beaker had darkened, achieving the desired result that Ratchet had described.

Very slowly, Kayla turned to face him and he met her gaze. Her serious expression gave way to an impish grin, and she leaned in close to his audio receptor. "Told you so," she whispered in a low voice, smugness permeating every word.

"It worked..." Ratchet muttered softly, momentarily ignoring his human companion, his opticis shining with cleaning fluid. As though her grin were infectious, a smile began to spread across the medic's face as well, his optics now bright and wide. "It actually _worked!_"

It was then that the human laughed and jumped down onto his workspace from his shoulder. Turning around, she faced him with arms crossed and rolled her eyes, still smiling. "Well, _no shit, Sherlock_. I _told_ you it would work."

The ambulance chuckled deeply, his smile slowly turning sheepish as he rubbed the back of his helm with his hand. "I, uh...suppose I owe you an...apology," he hedged slowly, locking eyes with the human down below. "And my gratitude, as well." The awkwardness segued into several moments of silence, during both parties made an enormous effort to not meet the other's gaze. At last, Ratchet spoke again. "For a 'neutral' party so reluctant, you certainly have been a valuable asset to our cause."

"Yeah, yeah..." she brushed him off, doing her best to keep from uttering something stupid. "What can I say? As a fellow scientist, my heart breaks to see a comrade unaided and in need of assistance." Kayla gestured downward, and the mech took her cue; very carefully, he grasped her about her middle and gently placed her back on the floor. She jerked her head to acknowledge the favor, and then questioned,"You're going out tonight like that?", gesturing up and down to his frame, a sarcastic smile and a raised eyebrow emphasizing her point.

"Oh, yes," Ratchet replied, matching her own caustic tone with his own. "I'm going to parade myself down the street like this." He rolled his eyes albeit dramatically before casting her an almost scathing look. "I've prepared my holoform as you requested."

"Black tie?" It was less of a question, and more of a subtle demand.

"Black tie," he affirmed, doing his best to ignore her nagging. Primus...he knew the event was important to her, but her persistent nitpicking was starting to really aggravate him.

The human nodded and took her leave, returning to her quarters to prepare herself for the gala; why she needed four hours, the mech was unsure of. But before completely disappearing from sight, she turned around once more, gesturing to him again. "Eight o' clock."

Again, it was less of a request, and more of a demand. In no mood to deal with her anger, he nodded once more and replied,"Eight 'o clock."

At long last she took her leave, disappearing down the corridor without a backward glance. Rachet sighed in relief. For an organism so small, she certainly could be quite the pain in his backside, and her temporary absence was somewhat of a reprieve. The medic began to turn back toward his workstation to resume documentation of this new batch of energon, his mind beginning to wander as he did so.

"HA," laughed Bulkhead, the sudden noise scaring the poor ambulance almost half to death as he jumped in surprise. "You are _so_ whipped, Ratch."

Ratchet angrily poked a finger into the larger mech's chest, snarling,"_Bulkhead!_ You know better than to startle me near my workstation!" Reassuring the precious beaker hadn't been upset, he glanced over his shoulder and glared at the other mech. "And I am not whipped. So shut your vocalizer."

Leaning against the wall, the Wrecker let loose a deep chuckle, an amused smile beginning to spread across his faceplates as he observed his flustered friend. "For someone _not whipped_, you took that tongue lashing awfully well."

Once again, Ratchet rolled his eyes before returning to his work. "It isn't being submissive. It's headache prevention."

"Good save," Bulkhead replied, the smile still lingering through his words. He pushed himself off the wall back to his feet, informing the medic,"Speaking of headaches, Kayla said you can use her quarters to practice with your holoform. Said you were still nervous."

"Just a little." The red and white mech carefully labeled a container, pouring the contents of the beaker into it before carefully sealing it. "You try going incognito like that. It's a lot harder than you think."

"We're _already_ incognito, if you hadn't noticed," Arcee put in as she entered the common area, seating herself and observing the two mechs. "How much harder can it be to use a holoform?"

"_A lot_." Ratchet was clearly distressed, having nearly dropped the container twice as he fumbled to secure it in a cabinet around the corner from the workstation. At last, the sample was safe, and he returned to face his colleagues. "When we're using our alternate modes, it's not like we have to talk, or act human." He shuddered in dread, continuing,"When I'm using the holoform, I have to _be_ human. Use their knowledge, mimic their motor and speaking patterns, not to mention their nonverbal communication..."

"Wow, Ratch..." the two-wheeler reached out and placed a sympathetic hand on his arm. "I guess I never really thought about all that stuff. I can see why you'd be nervous."

"Yeah, buddy..." Bulkhead draped an arm around his shoulder, the tone of the conversation completely changing. "Maybe you should go ahead and fool around with that holoform some more. Get in some last practice before you take it out for a spin with the humans." He pulled the smaller mech in for almost a half-hug before offering,"I'll clean up out here for you."

"_I'll_ clean up out here," Arcee corrected, stopping the larger mech's hand. "We all know just how graceful you are, Bulk. I don't think Ratchet needs to worry about replacing lab equipment just yet."

Ratchet smiled at the pair of them, grateful to have such caring friends. "Thank you both. I appreciate it."

With a last nod in their direction, he followed the human back to her quarters and transformed once inside her main living area. Noticing she was still in the bathroom, he called out to her,"Practicing with the holoform in here!"

"Okay!" came the muffled reply.

The medic then projected his holoform, and turned to face himself in the mirror. The figure stood just under six feet tall, with pale white skin and dark brown hair peppered with grey. A pair of bright blue eyes peered cautiously back at him as he raked a hand down his new uncomfortable suit, scratching irritably at the black tweed fabric. His face was chiseled with a squarish jaw, and lines in his skin placed him at around his late forties, a bit younger than his Cybertronian equivalent. Upon scrutinizing himself in the mirror, he realized now that they may be perceived as a highly odd couple.

_"A little late to worry about that now," Ratchet berated himself. "Suppose I should've put a little more consideration into this thing beforehand."_

He took a handful of carefully measured steps across the room, watching himself carefully in the mirror. It was important to walk neither too quickly nor too slowly, the medic had observed, and adjusted his pace accordingly. He'd done quite a bit of research into human social interactions, and learned that it was considered appropriate to escort a lady into an event with arms linked. Facing himself in the mirror, he bent his arm at the elbow and offered it outward toward an imaginary person before bringing his arm back in toward his body and walking slowly. The medic had also learned that his companion would more than likely be wearing high heels, which would impede her movement slightly. She would need to take smaller steps in order to walk gracefully, and he once again adjusted his pace. This went on for longer than he realized; he gingerly picked up glasses and tipped his head to acknowledge other pretend individuals, all while maintaining his composure quite well.

At five minutes to eight, Ratchet retracted his holoform and returned to the common area, where Kayla had instructed him to wait. He transformed once again and projected his holoform, much to the amusement of the other Autobots.

"You look good, Ratchet!" Raf piped up, giving him an appraising thumbs up. "You'll fit in just fine."

The Autobots murmured in agreement for a moment before Optimus put in,"Your holoform is quite accurate, old friend. I have no doubts that the humans will suspect nothing."

"Hate to say it," Wheeljack put in as he stepped forward, casting a glance down at the new 'human' present. "But you do look good, doc. Do us all a favor and enjoy yourself tonight, will ya?"

Too nervous to argue with the other mech, the medic nodded his head like he practiced and gave him a small smile. From behind them on Bulkhead's shoulder, Miko snorted and laughed. "He looks like my _math teacher!_"

"Well, _I_ think he's perfectly handsome."

Everyone present turned to face the voice, and a surprised silence was left in their wake. Kayla certainly looked different; she wore a short black cocktail dress, ruched at the bust, with an elegant v-neck neckline. A pair of deep red high heeled shoes adorned her feet, and her wavy red hair was partially pulled away from her face, held up at the crown of her head by a crystal-covered comb and hung loose in back. She wore only a simple pendant and earrings, preferring to let her smoky eye makeup and warm red lipstick to be the center focus of her look. Her numerous tattoos lent a certain edgy quality to her otherwise classy appearance, leaving pretty much anybody without much to say.

"Why, Kayla..." Ratchet finally managed, stepping forward to greet her. "You look-"

"Hot!" interrupted Smokescreen, a huge grin present on his faceplates. "Why in Pit's name such a pretty girl like you is going out with our medic, I'll never understand."

"Do we really look _that_ odd?" she questioned incredulously, walking carefully over to Ratchet's alternate mode accompanied by his holoform. An awkward silence spoke volumes more than any words ever would. "Whatever. You ready, Ratch?"

"You have no idea," he muttered in a low voice, starting his engine and pulling quickly out of their base to escape the situation.

_"Thank Primus..."_

* * *

"This had _better_ work," Knockout growled, fumbling as he finished installing a new modification under his chassis. "Reduced to masquerading as a human..."

With a final solid twist of the wrench, he felt the device secure into place and transformed. Then, out of view from the interstate nearby, he tested the accuracy of his latest "upgrade"; a solidified holoform projected itself onto the dirt beside his alternate mode, scrutinizing its appearance in the Aston Martin's finish. Rotating several times, the Decepticon medic was surprised at how pleased he felt with this new appearance.

"I'm almost as gorgeous as I am in _Cybertronian_ form!" he exclaimed, adjusting his "clothing" before climbing inside his alternate mode. Knockout glanced at the clock on his dashboard, noting that the event he was ordered to attend had begun nearly an hour ago. Megatron would surely slag him if he found out he was so tardy. And being fashionably late didn't count, either. He sighed once more, and took off down the highway. "Now...to find that venue..."

After about an hour or so of fairly reckless driving, the Decepticon found himself jammed in Las Vegas traffic. He'd never seen so many humans before in one location at the same time; what could they all be doing here simultaneously to cause such a snarled mess? Slowly he began to inch down the Strip, taking note of the almost blinding lights plastered on the casinos and hotels around him. The entire city seemed highly obnoxious. After having moved only six blocks in almost an hour, he began to grow irate.

"Oh, _come on_!" he yelled, his holoform shaking its fist out of view of others. "What is the _hold up_, humans?!" It was only as he was turning his head away from traffic that he noticed a very familiar ambulance parked outside of a small, trendy nightclub about a block from his current location. "How strange..." he pondered to himself, confirming that it was indeed the Autobot he was searching for. The medic's holoform was arm in arm with the human in question, the two of them laughing as they headed inside the establishment. "Time for a detour."

Without a second thought, he revved his engine and jumped the median, peeling out onto the opposite street and tearing off down the block as he ignored the angry honks of fellow motorists.

_"You can run, but you can't hide, human."_

* * *

Ratchet had the entire commute to the event venue to worry, but instead chose to focus himself on navigating the pair of them as efficiently as possible. Anything to take his mind off of the upcoming gala. But as the pair of them drew nearer, a distinct chill began to creep up his now human spine. Something wasn't right...he could sense it. However, he abandoned his intuition's whisper as Kayla directed him to a section of street parking, and he carefully pulled up to the curb.

She climbed out of the passenger seat as daintily as she could before shutting his door, waiting patiently for him to approach her on the sidewalk. As he drew nearer, the medic was slightly taken aback; her pale white skin seemed to almost glow in the night as it was illuminated by the artificial light, lending her an air of almost ethereal beauty.

"Ready?" she asked quietly, a large smile playing across her face. She seemed nervous, but was masking the emotion quite well with an almost giddy appearance.

"As ready as I'll be," he affirmed stoically. Without a word, he extended his crooked arm to his companion, who shot him an appreciative glance before accepting it.

"Remember...if you're unsure what to do: improvise," she whispered, shooting him a knowing smile.

The pair began to walk down the sidewalk toward the party, the crisp night air giving the human goosebumps. Taking note of the chill, the medic pulled her slightly closer, and she smiled up at him. Aside from the noise of traffic nearby and the nightclub next door, the only sounds that permeated the atmosphere were the sounds of their footsteps, her high heels clicking softly on the pavement as they walked. It'd been so long since the mech had enjoyed an evening with a femme of any species, he almost forgot how intense and exciting a first date could be. He slowly began to relax a bit, and a delicious feeling began to seep over him as they ascended the steps to the venue. Finally, the two arrived at the front doors.

"You passed the test run. Welcome to the gauntlet," Kayla informed him, an all-too-delighted grin twisting her lips.

Ratchet gulped nervously, but reached forward without hesitation and opened the heavy, ornate door for her. She thanked him and proceeded inside, followed by several other ladies who also thanked him for holding the door for them. The medic gave them a small smile and nodded his head, the strangers returning his gesture in kind. Once the last person had entered the building, he let go of the door and rejoined his companion, who was waiting off to the side of the main hallway as to not clog the walking path. He offered her his arm once more, and the couple proceeded into the main cocktail lounge.

The walls were paneled with dark mahogany lined with heavy brass wall sconces as well as a collection of paintings and tapestries, the floor covered in thick, ornately decorated Persian carpet. A long bar lined the side wall, where patrons waited in line for alcoholic drinks, and a variety of comfortable seats and arm chairs peppered the sitting area. A large fireplace took center stage on the front wall; the fire had long been extinguished, but red-hot embers still glowed inside, giving off a slight warmth. Guests were currently mingling, the room filling with the sounds of quiet chatter and strains of classical music as Kayla coaxed him inside. They had barely been inside for thirty seconds when she was approached by an older man and his wife, both smiling pleasantly.

"Why, Miss Xenakis..." the man greeted her, shaking her hand before leaning in to give her a peck on the cheek. "You look marvelous this evening. Never would have taken you for a decorated woman." He gestured to her blankets of tattoos, and she laughed.

"That's the point," she informed him with a sly smile. "You know I'm being professional if you never see them." The three of them laughed again, and she gently tugged on his arm. "Robert, I'd like you to meet my partner, Radley." Ratchet made a mental note of his new -if albeit odd- human designation and stepped forward to greet the guest. "Radley, this is Jasper Hospital's head surgeon, Dr. Robert Gordon, and his wife Lily."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Ratchet replied confidently, shaking the doctor's hand firmly, and gently kissing the back of his wife's hand.

"My..." Lily replied, clearly flushed after the medic's introduction. "You've certainly found yourself quite the charmer, Miss Xenakis."

"I believe it takes one to know one," Ratchet replied, a small wink emphasizing his point.

Once again the group laughed, and Kayla nudged him gently in the side to garner his attention before flashing him a praising smile. Turning back toward the doctor, she spoke once more. "It was wonderful bumping into you again, but I believe it's time we collected our drinks and continued to mingle."

"Oh yes, of course," Dr. Gordon mused thoughtfully, swirling his own drink in thought. "Enjoy your evening, you two. I'll be seeing you around the hospital on Monday, Miss Xenakis."

After polite farewells, the two couples parted. Within moments, they were both handed flutes of champagne by a server, and Ratchet suddenly became very cognisant of his holoform.

"What do I-" he began to ask as he gestured discreetly to his glass, voice tense with anxiety.

"Give it to me," Kayla hissed, directing him over to a corner of the lounge concealed in an alcove. Ensuring that nobody was watching, she quickly dumped the glass into a nearby plant and handed it back to him. "There. Just hold onto it, and if someone offers you more, politely decline." He balked at her momentarily, but gently received the glass. "Did you have a better idea?" she laughed quietly, her eyes once again betraying her mirth.

"Not exactly," he practically snorted, meeting her gaze with a heavily restrained one of his own.

After the initial excitement had worn off, the evening seemed to drag by. Kayla had greeted guest after guest with a surprising amount of graciousness, introducing him and making pleasant small talk before excusing the two of them for privacy. Unfortunately, it was no sooner than they had detached themselves from one party that another approached them, and the process began anew. Though he maintained his appearance quite well, Ratchet was beginning to grow weary of the party. The entire purpose of his attendance was for the two of them to get to know each other, and they'd barely had a moment alone all evening. He noticed that his companion was beginning to feel quite strained as well, her exuberance becoming somewhat understated as the gala progressed.

Finally, after making a sizeable monetary donation to the medical department, she seized him roughly by the wrist and nearly hauled him off into the coat room, eager for a moment of peace. He quickly followed her lead, and slipped inside; she closed the door firmly behind the two of them and wrapped a hanger around the handle to ensure their privacy. After the door had been secured, she finally turned to face him once again - her face was flushed from the frantic nature in which she had locked them inside, and a lock of hair fell in her eyes, rendering her even more beautiful than the last time he'd had a chance to observe her.

"So..." Ratchet remarked awkwardly, tucking the hair behind her ear before tenderly brushing her face. "Alone at last?"

Kayla laughed nervously and touched the lapels of his suit. "God, I hope so." There were several moments of contented silence before she spoke again. "This can't have been a very fun night for you." Once again placed in an awkward position, he chose to merely chuckle, and she joined him. "Yeah...I feel your pain. This was _torture_, but I had to show up for appearances, you know?"

Ratchet laughed again, this time genuinely. "Oh, yes. I certainly know how this goes. You aren't the only victim of forced socializing present."

The two shared another laugh, bonding over their commiserating. At last, a mischievous smile played over her lips, and she leaned in close to his ear. "Wanna ditch and go do something fun?"

Ordinarily, the medic would have insisted she stay and fulfill her obligation to her cohorts. But the tone in her voice made sneaking off sound like far too much fun to strictly adhere to social graces. Not one to typically stray far from the marked trail, his eyes flashed in excitement at the prospect of doing something 'bad' for a change. "That sounds quite enticing," he agreed, squeezing her hand to emphasize his stand.

Very carefully, Kayla unwound the coat hanger and tossed it to the floor before placing her hand on the doorknob. "Ready?" she asked, nearly giddy at the thought of fleeing. "We're going to move quickly, but with social propriety. Don't acknowledge anybody, and keep your eyes down."

"Ready," he affirmed, hanging on tightly to her hand as they prepared to bolt.

"One...two..._three!_"

She opened the door and the pair quickly scuttled out, eyes darting wildly in search of a side exit as the weaved swiftly through the throngs of guests.

"Over there!" Ratchet whispered hoarsely, pointing to an illuminated exit sign on the wall ahead of them.

Behind them, Kayla heard someone call after her and she choked. "Hurry!" she pleaded, slamming her weight against the push-in door handle and rushing outside.

Ratchet was out shortly after and the pair of them slammed the door shut before hurriedly descending the steps. They jogged for about a hundred feet before ducking into a nearby ally; both took several moments to catch their breath, checking nervously over their shoulders to ensure that nobody had followed them. Finally, Kayla released a deep sigh before bursting into a fit of tittering giggles. Still slightly overwhelmed by their daring escape, Ratchet took another few moments to steady himself before he began to chuckle as well, the situation now becoming humorous.

"That was close," he smirked, joining his companion as they began to walk further down the alley.

"Right?" She took a moment to adjust her hair, then continued,"But totally worth the risk."

The medic nodded in agreement and smiled. They walked for a bit longer before he finally realized he had no idea where they were going or what they were doing. "Now that we're free, what's the plan?"

"Want to get a taste of human nightlife?" she asked curiously, gesturing to the front of a nearby nightclub. "I promise, you won't need nearly the amount of social propriety as you did before."

He took a moment to ponder the question, then realized how utterly absurd the entire situation was. He'd already paraded himself around as a human at a charity gala with great success...how difficult could a nightclub be?

He'd already thrown caution to the wind once. Why not twice? "Why not?" Ratchet asked with a laugh.

The two headed inside through the front entrance arm in arm, still regaling over their great tale of harrowing escape as they laughed raucously. But what they failed to observe was a cherry red Aston Martin across the street, and its contained holoform watching closely.

_"You can run, but you can't hide, human."_

* * *

After several minutes of waiting, Knockout climbed cautiously out of his alt mode and stared at the nightclub. A rather large guard stood at the door, and a crowd had formed on the sidewalk outside the establishment. Keeping with his belief in always looking good...his holoform followed his bipedal mode in doing so. The figure stood at around five feet ten inches tall, fire engine red hair adorning his head. He wore a simple black v-neck t-shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans, fashionable sneakers present upon his feet, and camouflaged his characteristic bright red Decepticon eyes with a pair of reddish brown ones. His face was sharp and angled, bearing a patch of matching bright red facial hair on his chin and well-shaped eyebrows.

"Can't go in that way..." he muttered to himself as he crossed the street to the building. "Might attract too much attention." The Decepticon medic paused for a moment to think, adding to himself, _"Although, I can't say I blame them for looking."_

It was then that he noticed a rear entrance to the club, and made himself as inconspicuous as possible as he passed by the other humans. Nobody looked twice, and he carefully slipped inside. Once in, the atmosphere of the club was enough to send his sensory systems into overdrive: the entire building was dark, save for the colored lights being projected down by an ornate lighting system. Music seemed to pulsate through the massive speakers, nearly deafening him in the process. Humans were crowded around the various bars with drinks in hand, and another crowd of them were dancing on a large empty area of the floor. There must have been hundreds of them present, and he began to grow concerned.

_"How am I supposed to find one human in all of this commotion? She could be anywhere!"_

He skulked around for several minutes, carefully scanning through the crowds. The Decepticon accidentally bumped into a couple kissing passionately, tangled up in each other's arms; they paused long enough to give him a dirty look before he quickly moved on, disgusted by the display. It was so dark, he could barely make out anybody's facial features, let alone recognize the one particular human he was searching for. After almost forty-five minutes of searching, the medic was beginning to grow desperate.

_"They have to be here somewhere. I __**saw**__ them walk in with my own eyes-"_

It was precisely at this moment when he felt someone bump into him, and heard them cry out in surprise. He was prepared to yell at the unsuspecting human, when she turned around to face him.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" the female apologized, wiping a bit of spilled drink off his shirt frantically. "These fucking lights are so disorienting. I hope I didn't hurt you, or something."

Something clicked in his processor. His mind reeled back to his conversation with Megatron back on the Nemesis, back to a picture he was shown before he departed for Earth. _"It's her!"_ he mentally exclaimed as he took in her appearance once again. _"It __**has**__ to be. I recognize that voice from the transmission Soundwave played."_ Collecting himself, Knockout laughed warmly and touched her hand. "No, not at all," he purred, leaning in closer to her with a half-smile. "Are you alright, Miss..."

"Kayla," she put in, her cheeks beginning to flush from the sudden shift in their interaction. "And yes, I'm quite alright, thank you."

"And what would a specimen like yourself be doing alone? Unaccompanied?" He wrapped a lightly tanned arm around her shoulders, and felt her body tense.

Kayla felt herself transition from being initially seduced, to mildly uncomfortable. "I, uh, I'm not alone," she informed him, slowly extricating herself from his grasp. Something definitely felt wrong, and her instinct was urging her to get away."And I'm actually preparing to leave." She locked eyes with Ratchet from across the room, and stepped away from this new stranger. "Sorry for bumping into you. I hope you enjoy your night."

Knockout knew that if he had any chance of bringing her back to Megatron, he couldn't allow her to move much further. "Oh, I will..." he informed her slyly, placing a hand on her shoulder to stop her as she turned to leave. "But I'm afraid I can't allow you to leave, Kayla."

She opened her mouth to shout to Ratchet for help, but he quickly placed his free hand over it, yanking her back into his chest by the shoulder. Keeping her pinned, the Decepticon holoform began to drag her toward the rear exit, and she began to panic. She attempted to wriggle free, but without success; her aggressor seemed to possess an iron grip. When this failed, she locked one of her legs behind his, trying fruitlessly to rip it out from underneath him. They drew nearer to the door, and she began to frantically and brutally ram his torso with her elbow, flailing her head back in an attempt to headbutt him. Amid all the chaos, she managed to slip her face free of his hand, and began to scream. Anything to attract as much attention as possible.

"Ratchet!" she cried, flailing her arms to catch his attention. "Ratcheeeet, heeeeelp! _Do something!_"

* * *

Ratchet had been waiting around ten minutes for Kayla to return with her drink, and she still hadn't emerged from the throng of people in the nightclub. A cold chill began to creep up his spine, and he again felt as though something wasn't quite right.

_"She should have returned by now. I'm going to search for her."_

And as he turned to begin scouring the club, he saw them. Kayla struggling fiercely to escape a man...a holoform. The figure also locked eyes with the medic and gave him a sinister grin, his reddish-brown eyes flickering away to reveal a pair of bright red Decepticon eyes. His heart nearly shuddered to a halt in his chest.

"No. No, it can't possibly be..."

It was then that her pleas reached his ears. "Ratchet!" she cried out, fear piercing her voice. "Ratcheeeet, heeeeelp! _Do something!_"

He didn't need to be told twice. Now on high alert, he began to barrel through the crowd of people in between them, ignoring their indignant shouts and insults as Knockout began to open the rear exit of the building.

"Hold on, Kayla!" he shouted, practically hurdling over one particular couple. "Keep fighting! I'm coming!"

By the time he'd forced his way out the door, the familiar red Aston Martin has sped over, holoform retracting momentarily to allow him to transform before seizing the human. Kayla screamed in abject terror, the blood curdling sound reverberating off the surrounding buildings, struggling fiercely against his grip.

"Let me go!" she yelled, eyes wild with fear as she continued to thrash.

Ignoring her, Knockout locked eyes with Ratchet and smiled. "From one doctor to another, I thank you in assisting me with the location of my quarry. Truly, I'm most grateful."

It was in this precise, awful moment that Ratchet realized what was happening. The Decepticons knew she was aware of their base's location...and since they themselves hadn't been able to locate it, they'd found someone who could. Someone smaller and weaker that they could manipulate for that and other valuable information. There wasn't enough space in the alley for two fully transformed mechs, and he couldn't risk being seen by such a high volume of humans. Kayla's screams had already attracted attention, and time was running out. In the moments before Knockout transformed, he locked eyes with his companion, and felt his heart drop. All the callousness and bullheadedness was gone, leaving behind a few very real, raw human emotions. He saw fear, uncertainty, and hurt within them now...an overwhelming sensation of failure sweeping over him as he stood helpless.

Ratchet retracted his holoform and immediately sped after the two of them, lights and sirens blazing him a path through the night's traffic, half drifting around corners and pushing his engine to its limits. Nothing mattered outside of this pursuit. After about ten harrowing minutes of risking other human lives, they'd finally hit the interstate. And much to the horror of the medic, a ground bridge opened up in front of the sports car.

"No!" he screamed, pushing himself past any conceivable physical limitation he may have had. "NO!"

But it was too late. Knockout disappeared into the ground bridge, the portal vanishing moments before the medic approached it. Ratchet slammed on his brakes, skidding to a dead stop in the middle of the road; he couldn't believe it...he just watched her get snatched up by a Decepticon, and was unable to prevent it. Another human prisoner of the Autobot/Decepticon war. The gravity began to set in as he anguished over the situation, overwhelming him with such intensity he was unable to think clearly.

"This can't be happening..." he murmured in disbelief. "This can't possibly be happening right now."

Overwrought as he found himself, he knew that sitting idly by would accomplish nothing. Putting pedal to metal, Ratchet sped off as fast as he could, racing back to the base in order to begin formulating a plan with the other Autobots. As he tore up the pavement in front of him, he opened up a comm link.

"Prime? Kayla...she-she's gone."

"Gone?" It was a question, but Ratchet could tell his leader had an idea as to the events he was referring to.

"Knockout abducted her. I believe he's taking her to the Nemesis for questioning."

"I shall open a bridge for you to expedite your urgent return," Prime replied, his unwavering tone almost reassuring. "We will resolve this conflict, old friend. One way or another."

"I hope so, Optimus. I really hope so."

* * *

**Author's Note**: And there you have it, folks! A whopping SEVEN THOUSAND words to satisfy you! I wrote this chapter three times, due to being unhappy with each version, but I'm really, really proud of this one! Just as a kind of side note, if you're interested in my musical inspirations for this chapter, I was listening to "Misty" by Stan Getz when Ratchet first saw Kayla all dressed up, and "Forces of Destiny" by Two Steps From Hell when she starts to get uneasy around Knockout/during her abduction, and it totally made it for me. So if you're interested, YouTube that shiznit! Anywho, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! And if you have any suggestions for either my writing or things you'd like to see in the story, please, please drop me a line in either a review or private message; I live to serve you! Muahahaha. :D

Thanks for your continued interest and support! And in homage to fanfiction nostalgia...PLZ R&R K THNX BAI. Lmao. Couldn't do it with a straight face.


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